It flies

She often wondered where time had gone. How could it be that she had so little left of it now?

She took another glance at the trail of mess behind her. Every few steps, she’d felt the need to look, as if to take pictures in her mind.

Broken glass.

Crumpled sheets.

Crushed petals.

Spilled wine.

Dry bones.

Oh, where did the time go?

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