Writing Prompt: The Perfect Day

The gentle spring breeze stroked my cheeks, blowing a sweet fragrant whisp of blooming apple trees. If there was a perfect day that had ever existed or ever would come into existence, this would most certainly be its rival.

Everything was perfect. The perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect man.

It was only logical that of all days, this had to be the one. This had to be the day I died.

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