John

The first thing I notice in the room next to him is Chrysanthemums. I didn’t want flowers but forgot to say. It’s hard to think of everything. Maybe someone asked me. Maybe I’m on autopilot just nodding and telling everyone I’m fine. I’m tired of having ‘sorry for your loss’ thrown at me, then that awkward bit where we stand in silence.
I leave half way through his funeral.
Those fucking Chrysanthemums.
I feel like I can smell them from outside.
I’ve had enough. I don’t want to be alone but I need to be by myself for a bit.