There is nothing left; it is already over by the time you get there. Linens and flowers crowd the already small space. The staff, already busy with another room, have left it all to decay.

On your way home, inside the cold bus, your thumb caresses a petal you stole.

Lucie Culerrier is a French writer based in New York, where you can find her behind her computer in small coffee shops of the East Village. She has recently finished writing her first novel and is now a bit unsure of what to do with her life.