Dried Flowers

He lay the dried flowers down onto the cold cement. It had worked out well, it had gone perfectly. “Too gorgeous,” he whispered as he turned to leave. He smiled as he walked away; yes, everything had worked out rather well. He sat in his armchair, running his hands through his silver hair. He smiled thinking of the days that had brought his plan into action. He would leave dried flowers on her porch everyday, with a note saying that she was too gorgeous for the world. At first she was rather confused. But gradually, she had greeted the flowers with a sweet smile. Whenever she read the note attached, she would laugh her beautiful laugh. She would look around trying to locate the person who had brought her the gift, but he blended in the shadows too well, almost as though he was one himself. But she was unaware of the presence of the sweet venom in the flowers she held, diminishing her existence day by day. After all, she was too gorgeous for the world. He lay the dried flowers down onto the cold cement. It had worked out well, it had gone perfectly. He grazed his fingers on the name engraved in the stone. “Too gorgeous,” he whispered as he turned to leave. “Too gorgeous for the world, just like my dried flowers.” He smiled as he walked away; yes, everything had worked out rather well.