Practice Writing – Sunflower

Haven’t written anything for a long while and so here’s something to help me stretch the writing muscles.


I lifted the blinds and dust and sunlight came pouring down from the rectangular, glass windows. I took a deep breath and scanned the place. The room looked exactly the same since the last time I’ve been here. The room felt of her. I started with the Beatles posters on the walls – carefully removing them and folding them neatly into squares before placing them into the boxes I brought. Next were the pieces of clothing on the floor. She was never the tidiest type of gal. They still smelled of her – of vanilla and happiness. I folded them and placed them on top of the posters. Another sigh escaped me. There was so much work needed to be done, I thought to myself.

An hour had passed and the room was stripped of her. Every bit of her I’ve folded and stacked inside the blue boxes – everything save for the clay pot with the sunflower that sat by the window. It was the last gift I gave her. He sat down on one of the boxes and just stared at the sunflower that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun. It was a Tuesday and raining hard. He was late on their date and Bell was having the worst of days. He came up behind her and kissed her on the cheek. She didn’t even look at him. He said, “Don’t go matching the weather with your mood, love.” He then placed the sunflower on the table between them. “Here, I brought you the sun to brighten up your day,” he said. It was cheesy. He knew it was cheesy the moment the words left his mouth. He didn’t care. She smiled at it and that was all that mattered really.

He stood up and stacked the boxes on top of each other, lifted them up, and started walking towards the door. He placed the boxes down and took one last look at what was once her room. The sunflower remained by the window. “Goodbye,” he said to the flower and he closed the door.