The old man sipped his coffee as his old, tired eyes scanned over the mail.
His bills were adding up, as usual..
He sighed and got up and out of his chair, slowly walking towards the flower by the window.
It was beginning to wither..
"Hey, John, you alright?"
Ah, yes. Carmen.
"Oh, yes, I'm fine. It's just withering."
Carmen, his friend, looked at him weirdly.
Their relationship is withering away just like that flower.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
Then months.
Carmen passed.
The flower has died.
What's left in it for him?
He sighed, tear stains on his cheeks.
"What's next, my dog?"
Buster, his German Shepard, whimpered and sat on his owner's lap.
Unbeknownst to Buster..
This was the last time he'd be able to see his loving owner.