A small room above a bay window. A single bed, a table and chair, and a sink. I could manage something larger, with more conveniences, but I could never match the view.
No flowers today, though the old ones remained. I tried to rearrange them, because their scent was still there (lilies), but nothing worked, so I cleaned the vase instead.
The vase was a gift from an antique dealer who, after twenty years, was going out of business. She had boxes of stuff that was not antiques but stuff she liked and thought others might like too. She gave me the vase on the condition that I always keep it stocked with fresh flowers -- a directive I resented, but because I liked her, I accepted.
On my way out I dropped the vase in the recycling bin. When I returned, it was still there. I brought it back to my room, placed it in the light and wondered how long before it, too, will be antique.