The same morning repeated itself for the umpteenth time. Vione awoke without Usher at her side. Usher had left and she sighed as she rose from the bed. As she sat up, holding the blanket to her chest, she surveyed the aftermath of the chaos in the room—a testament to the passion of their love the night before.
The thought of it brought up a myriad of flowers with different scents, all blooming simultaneously in Vione's chest. Her emotions soared, and she felt as if she could truly fly until she touched the ceiling. Unfortunately, the joy was interrupted when a trace of resentment managed to surface.
Every once in a while, it seemed appropriate, not overly so, that Vione wanted to wake up in the morning in Usher's embrace. She wanted to start her day with Usher for breakfast, feel the war
