money bled everywhere. melted as it fell. not a single piece of the paper even lasted to the ground - who had thought that it could find its way to the bottom of our hearts? who had thought it could fill our insides, our minds, our personalities, our eyes, our futures - the paper couldn't even fall to the ground without deteriating. who had thought it could mean something? the book was empty. there was no vast knowledge or learning of any kind behind the front cover, behind the pages. so empty. i picked up the pieces of the vase, i swept up the ashes. in fact, was the first to look at the front cover. gently placed discombobulated ashes and a divided vase in a book without meaning. otherwise, i left the room. exactly as i had found.