Silk hydrangeas at her elbow, she signed the paper *here* and *here* and smiled at the notary. It was a dazed sort of smile – one she tried to pass as “hopeful”.
The man on her right drummed his fingers on the counter and flirted with the same notary.
“Aren’t the hydrangeas pretty?” she said. “There was a wedding this weekend.”
The flowers weren’t silk at all.
Two blossoms filled the vase. The first blossom seemed freshly picked, but the second blossom was heavily wilted and spilled onto the counter.
dropped petals –
told at last