Blur

123 Words
'Oh well' she thought 'no point in keeping them around anymore', as she was plucking the dead leaves off the tiny what-once-were-green-branches or colorful flowers, thinking of the new ones she would replace them with. 'Cactus. Cacti' because she always thought of the easiest way. 'They don't require much attention.' The floor was dichromatic. One was almost gray dust; and the other was light wood in thick lines from the bed to the door, closet, desk. Lines. Lines because she always dragged her feet. Always with a smile on her face though. A big smile. She smiled and laughed so often that it had settled into her traits like the dust on her floor. Almost rusty, but there nevertheless.
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