“I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end.”
― Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca
I look up from my tomb of stone and for a time wait in silence for the end to reach me. There are no last words of wisdom, no legacy of letters to offer in exchange for one day more.
As the shadow crumbles into darkness I glimpse an edge of white curved into my palm.
I blink. I blink again. It stays with me.
A flower… My thumb traces its crown as if to reassure itself that it is truly there. So small that it could be a trick of light.
Light? Realisation breaks through.
Not all is lost.