What I Came Here For (Prelude)

"Good morning."

"Good morning," I replied, as the light fell gently upon her rusty blonde hair. The day crawled in through the old casement window

I pried the ice box door open. Gazing into the void, I am berated with a wave of floral decay. All this waste that had been stacking up. Year after year of bountyless labour

I remarked, "Has it always been this bad?"

She said, "You were the last one in there, don't blame this on me."

It didn't seem that long ago I'd had my hand in the bin, feeling around for something riper. Where did the days go? Just like that, they're gone

She was gone

I still hear that voice, "Isn't it time for you to go?"

I'm not sure what I came here for