Lazily looping her long tresses, she curled them up into a loose bun, resting it against the base of her swan neck.
The morning breeze playfully ruffled the gaudy gold curtains, bringing in the comely fragrance of the parijat blooms which lay forsaken at the feet of its tree. She watched the blink and miss descent of the flowers as the tree gently shed them randomly.
The star shaped flowers lay face down with their bright orange stems stuck upright as if to cock a snook at the world. “We may be down, but are definitely not out”, seemed to be the message the parijat was sending out to the world at large.
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The tree had been a low bush when she had first come here at age fourteen. Now ten years later, it was a full fledged one with a strong girth and a wide canopy.
And she? What was she after a decade? Had she too matured fully into her potential? She was certainly experienced at her work, some might even say that she was now past her prime.
She fancied kinship with the parijat for didn’t she also bloom only at night, only to be discarded by dawn?
Sighing, she began tidying around the room to remove the traces of last night and prepare for a restful day ahead before her next customer arrived with nightfall.
This short work of fiction is written in response to the prompt “FALSE” set out by Vineetha for the 16th edition of #FictionMonday.
I am not very happy with the title and unsure if the prompt has been properly used here. This story has actually come about by the sighting of the parijat every morning on my walks. I do wonder at nature for the uniqueness of this tree and how it blooms at night to shed by dawn.
I look forward to reading what you think of this effort. Please do offer your opinion on how this could be improved.
Maybe you would like to check out a post on the parijat which has an interesting mythological tale attached to it.