Sunshine cut through swatches of heavy gray clouds like a puncture from a dull knife, and light seeped like blood from a bandaged wound. Wind blew like the shudders of a man trying to hold back tears and breathe at the same time. Blossoms whipped across the bottom steps in a furious little cyclone. Eventually the air would still, and the petals would sprinkle the ground like confetti, then be trampled. They’d become muddy, torn, and then, forgotten.
