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22 the minnesota review Evelyn Fitzpatrick Untitled The beautiful white orchids had turned to brown; they were still in shape but about three sizes smaller. They had lain in the bottom of a brandy snifter from the day of the funeral, five years ago. She was always very careful when she dusted the glass container, but this time she knocked it over. When she picked it up and looked at the dried flowers, they were no longer there. There was just a pile of ashes. "Oh no," she cried, tears filling her eyes as she slowly dropped to the floor. "How can I just throw these away?" She sat there quietly, remembering her life the way it used to be. Lost in a maze of memories, all of her senses seemed to leave her body and go back to those special moments and events in her past. It seemed like hours went by, but it was only a few minutes when the ring of the telephone brought her back to the present. She jumped up quickly to answer it. "Hello, hello?" There was no answer. She hung up, thinking how strange that at this particular call, no one was there. Maybe "someone's" trying to tell me something. Looking at the broken orchids, she couldn't just throw them away. She got an envelope and carefully put the remains of the orchids in it, then she sealed the envelope and buried it in her Bible. The once beautiful white orchids were laid to rest. ...

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