Into the icy cold. Two streams of breath wreathed halos around stony souls. The surprise rose, forgotten in the back seat, dropped a pastel petal in the frozen heat. And all was quiet. A passing stranger hummed softly.
Paper faces on parade.
Hide your face so the world will never find you. And the paper dolls walk. While humans lie motionless in black sepulchres, stained by spaghetti red, lifeless souvenirs of a forgotten tomorrow.