daises

“Daisies tell stories of new beginnings.” That's what the note lying on the red tiled floor had read. I remember that day all too well, her shoes propped up against the wall, the old record player is in the back, along with the sound of grumbling from an outdated washing machine. The bath had been filled with daisies, some looked like they had just been picked whilst others looked multiple weeks old. There was an everlasting smell of two minute noodles and red wine wafting through the air. You could tell the bath had been sitting there for quite some time based on how icy her face was. The house felt rather empty and bland when walking through the hallway. The bathroom however, the stained glass above her head had some beautiful colours dancing on the wall from the late February sunset. Her white t-shirt was transparent and stained red from sitting in the bloodied water for so long. I could hear a faint siren in the background, it was all being taken care of on the ninth of February.