Naomi propped her dainty elbows atop the windowsill.
“Life is not a highway strewn with flowers,” crooned her angelic and mellifluous voice in profound despair and poignant sorrow.
The curtains chasséd to the rhythm of the wind.
“Still it holds a goodly share of bliss,” someone husked.
That startled her.
The featured image is courtesy of Manik Rathee.