Spilled champagne and shattered glass.
That was the last of you. Just a vivid dream, ended in tattered threads. Imagination too wild to contain – strewn across the carpet in splashes of red and fizzling gold. Flights of fancy have no wings, but it took you too long to realize.
Was it easy to awaken from that dream? The dream I shared? To hide away the last crumbs of your selfish waste, just as your stiff hand snatches the shattered glass that ended it all? I suppose I’ll never know.
But I’m glad to see that you set the table for two.