Just before the museum closed, a woman used her vast fortune to bribe the guards.
Being the only one left in the building she immediately made her way down the long halls,
Ignoring all the colorful paintings, she quickly scurried to one in particular, one of her own.
An illustration of bright colors depicting a vase filled with sunflowers and chrysanthemums,
They sat on top of a wooden table, the same table she always sat down at after serving dinner.
Standing in front of the familiar painting the woman closes her eyes and counts; 1...2...3
Once opening her eyes, she finds herself at the same wooden table; to her side was her love.
He leans over close to her and places his lips upon her cheek before sitting down on her right.
Her body fills with a fuzzy feeling as she finds herself feeling whole again, feeling loved again.
It had been months since she’s last felt this way; since she’s last felt happy in this bleak world.
There, in the flesh, her husband sitting at the table, not sick, but alive and well;
His pale skin now glowing, his glassy eyes now lively, his perfect smile now present.
The flowers were a gift for their anniversary, the same kind he would give her every year.
Her own smile faltered as she remembered, in time, all of that would disappear;
His glowing skin would turn pale, his lively eyes would turn glassy, his perfect smile soon gone.
And yet, those flowers would always be there, though they would wilt at some point, she knew,
Forever, those flowers would symbolize their love, forever she would remember what they had.
Forever, whenever she saw the vase, she would remember, their love will last forever.