137 Days

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She picks a budding flower off of the tree outside her window, smiling at the yellow color. It reminds her of the sun, which directs her thoughts toward her sunshines performing in the same arena as her. She tacks the flower to her wall at the top right corner of her countdown. The flower really does look like the sun against the bright blue paint of her walls. She likes the idea of keeping it there, but she knows her mom will say she is becoming a hoarder and remove it in the morning. The thought of losing her little sunshine flower causes the corners of her lips to fall, and she begins to feel anger toward her mother for crushing such a small dream of hers. Then again, if her mother doesn't take it down, she will have to watch it suffer and wilt until it is completely dead and at a loss. With an idea of creativity, she digs through her bag for her camera from photography class. She snaps a quick picture, and later on it is posted to Twitter with a cute caption.

"One-hundred thirty-seven days," the girl says, gazing at the photo.

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