The door to the office seemed enormous. Deep red frame filled with a thick glass piece completely covered in hand painted flowers, all intricately woven into each other. Tiny little flowers. Millions of them.
I remember standing outside that door for what felt like forever… deeps breaths girly, just keep breathing, don’t let the clouds take over…
I remember feeling the gurgling in my stomach, the coffee I had consumed that morning threatening to spill itself at my feet.
I remember hearing all the people bustling behind me on the busy street, chattering away in their own conversations, a phone ringing with a pop song for a ringtone.
I remember the smell of the flowers in the nearby garden, pungent and sweet.
I remember the throbbing in my feet, walking here to clear my head probably hadn’t been a good idea.
I remember thinking how beautiful the door was, thinking ‘I should take a photo’ and immediately talking myself out of it. The door was beautiful, but would only ever symbolize the sickness I felt, the sadness that I knew was coming.
I had to go inside. It was time to say goodbye.
I pushed the door open and felt the air-conditioning rush out, cooling the tears I didn’t know had fallen on my cheeks. It was time.