maybe a new face?
Roses. They were everywhere.
How? This late into autumn, with snow already here, they should be dead and gone. Instead they carpeted the ground, a bright burst of red, so beautiful one could almost forget the thorns beneath. There were thin paths between the flowers, and the blackbird winded through them, eventually sitting down in a wider patch of grass encircled by red.
Her breath hitched in her throat. There was something about this place that made her dreadfully sad. It reminded her of everyone she had lost, whether to the grave or to another place. And oh, she had lost so many. . . A tear slid down her cheek, and she sniffled, breath bursting into fog on the cold air.
Lily leaned down to sniff at the roses, eyeing the barbs with caution.
So fresh, so perfect. Unbelievable.
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