When I woke up only the janitor remained. When he saw me, he left.
I brushed my fingers along the silk lining, rising from my sheet-less bed with half cracked eyes. My body felt stiff, as if the drowsy remnants of an eternal rest still clung to my physical being. My fingers crunched as I curled them around the bed’s banister, and my tendons twisted between my bones. I lifted myself onto the floor and rubbed my eyes open; a garden of chrysanthemums surrounded me, bundled in small bouquets at the end of each pew.



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