I had been preparing to go home, counting down the hours until morning. But when I finally woke up, the sight that greeted me left me frozen in place. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming.
Dozens—no, hundreds of flowers filled the room, their vibrant colors painting every surface around me.
I pinch myself, I wasn't dead. I thought I had already crossed over, and these were flowers meant for the grave.
They weren't, though.
They were fresh, blooming, alive in every sense.
The air was thick with their sweet fragrance, almost suffocating in its intensity. Roses of every imaginable shade surrounded me—rich reds, soft pinks, delicate whites, and deep purples.
Wherever I looked, it was a sea of petals. It was beautiful, breathtaking, even. And yet, something about it felt wrong. I felt uncomfortable looking at them.
