"Flowers for Emily" by David LloydConor feels exhausted. He sits in the undertaker’s office smelling the embalming fluid that’s drifted in from the mortuary next door. Six back-to-back funerals have left him feeling like there’s no beauty left in the world. Two of the services were for young people, both killed in the same automobile crash.The upturned vehicle lay in the ditch as they slowly drowned in the flood waters. It's a small town and he knew both of them. His hay fever’s been triggered by the lilies which crowned all the coffins today. He looks at the calendar on the wall knowing that his vacation is still three months away. Those days by the lake will restore him as he sits and watches wildlife capturing their movement with his camera. Then he starts to sneeze repeatedly. He struggles to breathe and reaches for his inhaler shoved in the back of his desk drawer.
As the clock chimes 7pm he remembers it’s his partner’s birthday and he’s forgotten to buy a present. He locks up and walks towards the park as the sun begins to adopt a tangerine hue. The gates are locked. He climbs over, lands awkwardly, staggers forward and starts to pick all the bluebells he can lay his hands on. He carries them gently, lays them down, creates a bouquet and the world changes. Afterwards as he walks home he sneezes and sneezes. His eyes fill with tears.
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