Her eyes spoke a hundred different stories, eched deeply in lines and creases across her paper thin skin. A prescence so unspeakably intriguing, The sterile white sheets and cotton blue pyjamas did nothing to blend her together with the rest of the nameless living dead laying silently around her in the large mohogany room. Hair flaxened white with age, the early morning light creeped slowly into the dark room and she awoke to the first warm glowing rays of spring.
Quietly watching the apple blossoms bloom in the melting snow, she laid still, listening to the beepings of machines her life now grew reliant of. A fiery anger laid dormant beneath her cool exterior and she wondered how long it would be before she turned into the silent empty soul that rested beside her. It had only been a week and the thought of spending her last days in this hollow empty room was unbearable. Unimaginable.
“They have all forgotten, we were young once…” she thought as grieve took its toll on her raging heart. Her life like everybody else, was once a fierce beautiful dream of freedom and laughter. Watching the nurses drift endlessly among the hundreds of beds chattering and laughing, she wondered how it had all gone so terribly wrong.
A tear slide down silently and she closed her eyes. Nearby, a young girl watched in curious silence, a bouquet in her hands
