After everything's over, recollection is much like looking through a kaleidoscope.
The brilliant flash of fragmented memories, as well as the miniature shadows they cast. Tumbling over themselves in a shower of color within their glass prism, like how unwelcome thoughts wreak havoc within your midnight state-of-mind.
For Yuankai, he thinks of the window box near Xiuzhen's bedroom window, filled with the plush whiteness of camellia blossoms and carnations. He thinks of the birdcage tattoo over her ribs, and the soft golden streaks in her hair; he thinks of a stainless ivory wedding dress, of a shattered mirror and a bloodied pair of gardening scissors.
He turns the memories over and over, catching the fragments as they come.
But even when they cut into his palms, even when they leave him bleeding -
He cannot find it in himself to let go.
YOU ARE READING
the language of flowers.
Romantizm'if anything, it felt as if his heart was blooming because of her.' ✧ chen yuankai is certain he's happy. with a steady job at one of the nation's top advertising agencies, his boss's approval, and a girlfriend that looks like she could've just step...
