Nano November

This November, I know better than to try Nanowrimo, so in the vein of Inktober, which actually worked well for me (and my grade-school art skills), I’m going to do Nano November (which I just made up, I think) and write drabbles (100 words) every day of the month. They likely won’t be connected at all, and I was going to do a prompt list, but I didn’t for the first one, so we’ll see….

Today’s:

The roses from my mother’s funeral sat on the table, the white faded to yellow, the vases dry. Their heads drooped, as exhausted as I was by the whole thing. Like me, they’d been forgotten, left to their own devices. Left to my devices. I hadn’t cared for either of us very well. 

Papery skin that crumbled at the barest touch, flaking to the table to be brushed aside by the cough of the air conditioner. Blonde hair that once tumbled in waves hangs lank and greasy, tangled together like our lives had been. And as our deaths now were.