Diane was back at the flower shop. Standing exactly where she had stood on that morning when the fire raged with absolute monstrosity. This time she did not move, but another person did—her.
There was another her.
The other Diane was running into the shop now amidst the crowd's outburst.
Suddenly Diane could hear a woman screaming beside her, a bag thrown on the floor with a few of its contents spilling out. There were long spring onions, broccoli, and carrots. Someone stepped on a bulb of cabbage, ripping it apart.
The woman was wailing now, while pointing at the left side of the second floor of the building, as tears choked her throat. Diane looked up to where her hands stretched to, and now she could see it. A blue curtain parted at the sides, a figure moved and then came to stand at the window. The figure looked down and started waving at the wailing woman.
Someone else has been too there. It wasn't only the old man that day; a young boy was there too.
