I'm just another budding writer that has taken inspiration from the great works of J.K. Rowling, using it as a medium to display my own ideas far more than is healthy. I'm of the mature age of fifteen and tend to share my thoughts more with the keys of my computer than those around me. I rather like the idea of hiding behind a pseudonym if I'm going to bare my soul through my words, thus, here, I am at peace.
Summary: Just a simply story of one person's thoughts as the dust settles, their emotions, their internal monologue about society as they now see it. A story of how after one loses those that one holds dear, these things that once seemed sweet, those unspoken rules of professing remorse for someone's grief, feel lifeless. Like flowers, why do they send flowers?