[So then it really was meant to be a remembrance. Back home, no one would be left to make her a bouquet to place on her grave, let alone one as thoughtful as this one. Was this really how he'd seen her? He'd said it before in fewer words, but flowers spoke the words that people were unable to say, and only feel in their hearts. It's a lesson that her mother taught her once, one that she used mostly for herself and rarely towards others.
There's nothing more touching that he could possibly do, and she has no idea how to handle it.
She doesn't smash the vase and scream. She only sits back down, slumped over in the chair, and rests her forehead in one hand. This day really is getting to be too much to handle.]
action;
There's nothing more touching that he could possibly do, and she has no idea how to handle it.
She doesn't smash the vase and scream. She only sits back down, slumped over in the chair, and rests her forehead in one hand. This day really is getting to be too much to handle.]