Emily.

It was dark in her room, or was it even her room? She couldn't tell. She felt something crack under her bare foot, a sharp pain shot through her as the shard sliced the underside of her foot, she felt the warm blood begin to leak like tears of an adolescent heartbreak. "There goes my last coffee up." She thought slightly annoyed with herself. Light flooded the room casting it's fluorescent glow across the dangling beads and feathers hanging from the ceiling of her closet apartment. Suddenly feeling the pain intensify in her foot and remembering the consequences of blood on carpet, she threw her saxophone on the futon and sat down next to it to nurse her wound. After she had tended to her foot and threw out the guilty mug, she sat on the window ledge and watched the sun rise over New York City, the sky the same hue as her bandaged wound.

The end.

"What?" He said bewildered. In his shock he had let go of her. He just stood there staring at the eyes he used to know so well. "You should go." She said finally in a dead voice. She stood exactly in the same spot saying nothing as he got all his things, put on his coat and went to the door. As he opened the door to leave, he turned around and seemed to be on the verge of words but changed his mind and left without saying anything. The door snapped shut with a sharp click but she didn't move. There she stood not moving for a long while, finally she awoke from her trance and turned and saw the two empty sherry glasses. She picked up the delicate crystal glasses and held them in her hands feeling the outlines of their delicately carved patterns roll over her rough weathered hands. Then one by one she threw them against the wall shattering them completely. Then she ran upstairs, threw herself onto the guest bed and cried herself to sleep.
It took them a week to find her body. Nobody missed her silent ghostly presence collecting the paper every morning. It was Tom coming to get his mother's sherry glasses who finally found her. She was still lying on the guest bed, next to the dried lilac clipping on the bedside table, the glass still had water in it.