The flower, once radiant and sweet-smelling, had bloomed and was now faded. It had taken on a crisp, paper-thin delicateness. One gust of wind from beneath the door and it would explode into a million pieces, which would become stuck in the dusty, viscous cobwebs covering every surface within the room. Silky wallpaper, glistening where the sun had managed to infiltrate, was peeling away, eroded by yet more dust.
The sun rose and sank, but the room went undisturbed. No one would enter and those who had would never really leave. An air of mystery filled the space. Had a lover loved? Did they leave? A musky scent lingered – but perhaps it was her imagination filled with nostalgia for a more glittering past.