The sense of isolation I spoke of before

The sense of isolation I spoke of before has intensified. It has become easier to stay in at nights and avoid contact with the outside. Today, on a calculated whim I decided to test a world which had before today been only a fiction.
For a few years now bouquets have set on my windowsills, continuously refreshed and similar bouquets have found themselves on the midnight stoop of many of my friends. This is because of a specific dumpster down the street from my house where the flower-shop tosses the partially aging bouquets. Over the years there have been roses, lilies, bird of paradise, tulips, carnations, baby's breath lily of the valley. In the winter season there is sometimes partial garland. Sunflower more common in the summer.
Only in the last few months have I developed a story around the people who work in this shop. Based on a single visit to verify there were no sunflowers, I found the operators were frail looking women in their sixties. Without taking much more into account

I fall in flakes, like a croissant. Where ever there is start my fingernails continue to pick pick pick, until pieces flake off.