Cacti

Cactus, Plant, Plant Rack, Green, Sting, Spur

The cacti was dead. Linda wasn’t sure how she had done it but she had killed the only plant she’d been told was impossible to kill. Picking it up from the office window sill, Linda carried the potted plant outside.

Laying the shriveled, brown remains to rest in the bin, Linda couldn’t help but compare this event to her current situation. Sighing, she closed the bin lid and went back to her desk.

The lawyer’s office was quiet with only the hint of distant voices, ringing phones and tapping keyboards. Linda looked at the piles of papers and other things cluttering the desk. All ready, she felt tried and it was only a few minutes past nine. She pushed things around for a few moments in the attempt to try and get her motivated.

Giving up, she sat back and dropped her hands to her small stomach bump. Too many ifs and buts swirled through her mind. Trying to avoid the coming tears, she tried to move her thoughts on to how long this time it would take to lose the weight.

Pulling over a calendar, Linda looked at the days but the sight of clinic and doctor’s appointments marked down made her toss the thing away. She turned again to the work on her desk and threw herself into it.

Postcard #17

She flipped through the handmade calendar, fighting back tears as she saw all the good times they had had. She recalled his words about making more special memories this year, enough to fill next year’s calendar. Her fingers fought the glossy, heavyweight pages of the summer months which displayed photos of them on holiday. She noted the days flying by and realised that was how they had always felt that when they were together. And now? The days dripped by like a leaking tap, pooling into nothing.