Sprout

Lifeless

I knew it. The next morning when I looked out of the window, everything was coated with a thin covering of frost, so it looked like a toddler had just randomly scribbled white marker all over the yard without paying heed to whether or not he had covered the whole area or not. Patches of green and brown and grey still showed through.
I didn't get a chance to look at the strawberry plants until the afternoon, and even then as I trudged toward them I did it as slowly as possible. When I reached the strawberry patch, I decided to get it over with. Glancing down at my feet, I saw them.
Lifeless. Dry. Pathetic. The beautiful petals had all been blown away by the wind, and all that remained were the husks of what had once been the beginnings of two strawberries among withered leaves.  
What once had been life was now gone.