No More Daffodils"Let me give you the world," she whispered. She reached out to touch him. Her fingers were frail like twigs, breakable. Her knuckles were scraped raw.No More Daffodils3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
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He leaned back, her nails barely missing his face. "No."
"I counted," she choked, a teardrop rolling down her cheeks. They looked like eggyolks, thin and fragile. He bet her tears tasted just like the ocean. "All 112,654 of them! You love me. I ran out of flowers..." He scanned the ground, her brunette hair like strings, but now there were almost none attached.
He reached for her scabbed head, "you missed a spot." He yanked the final hair, and she whimpered, "he loves me not," under her shaking breath as it fell to the floor.