Bob pruned his dying orchid while contemplating Valentine’s Day. He hated the “holiday” with more passion than he felt about any relationship he had ever been in. The only redeeming quality was the reduced-price chocolates the next day. He popped one such morsel in his mouth as he moved to the next morbid plant, one given to him by his ex. That’s when he had an epiphany! He knew how to make Valentine’s Day special for everyone. The following year he made ten thousand dollars selling dead flowers and bouquets to people who wanted that special something… for their ex.
The cold rips at Clark’s skin, trying to freeze it in a grimace. He tries to ignore the pain and weariness, knowing to lie down is to die. Clark struggled forward, but the grey view never changes in the twilight hell he finds himself in. Falling to his knees, Clark sees a glimpse of fire. He crawls through the snow, his hand freezing into claws, his legs losing all feeling. Dragging his body the last few feet Clark falls in front of the fire, but feels no warmth. He releases his soul to the flames and dances among the embers.