the roses have shattered

The laptop flickered to life, like monotone sparks flew behind the cover of the screen.

The click of the mouse echoed through the empty apartment, the sound rattled in her ears. She had memorized the exact position of the glitching folder on the screen, the one she looked at each day, even though she despised it.

The garbage disposal gurgled in the background. If only she could get rid of things like it could, if only she could destroy her memories as easily as it pulverized scraps.

As the video loaded, she inhaled a shaky breath, barely able to hold anything in, attempting to prepare for what was ahead. Why did she do this to herself? It was something she could stop, at any time. Yet here she sat, poised at the edge again.

It began.

The music, the rises and plunges of violins, had been drilled into her head. She counted, one, two, three, and the woman appeared on stage.

The woman began to dance, a smile on her face, as she moved like a ribbon in the wind.

Tears slipped down her face, scratching just the surface of the loss she felt inside.

That woman had been her once.

But she didn't know who she was anymore.