A Short Story about our Attention Life-span

There was something about the way flowers fell. Given that they were falling, there was no horror, no anxiety or fear. Not at all like the feeling of falling into the depths or an abyss of one’s nightmares. One gracefully fell on Hannah’s shoulder. She was about to brush it off until she noticed it’s stillness — it’s peacefulness as if it only wanted to rest after a long journey.

“I wonder what flowers think about.” She wondered.

She cupped it and placed it on the concrete slab next to the bike rack where her bike was the only one standing. It looked odd against the coldness of the concrete, but somehow it looked like the flower was saying it was home. “I’m home. I’m finally home,” it echoed.

She grabbed her bike and pulled it out of the compartment.

“I wonder what I’ll eat tonight.” Hannah thought to herself.

She pedaled away.