They’ll probably end up in the bin though. She accused me of something; said she had proof. But I persuaded her it was nonsense. I felt guilty afterwards. Not for what I did, he deserved it, but for denying it.
So I left flowers on her desk. Her favourites. Well, I could hardly take them to his funeral, could I? Anyway, I’ll be miles away by then.
Thank you, Rochelle, for hosting Friday Fictioneers, also Dale Rogerson for the photo prompt.