Prompt: My petit orchid or Still Life

Set against a pale yellow wall, the orchids dissolved. I looked again and their centers, bleeding the most delicate pink, drifted slowly into focus. I cleared my throat, despite the fact no one was there to hear me reassert my presence. On the table were the flowers which were in a vase, also pink, but a solid pink, my coffee cup, my tiny white pitcher of cream in the shape of a cow in full moo, and my spoon, resting quietly on a fresh linen cloth. Dust motes hung in the air, almost motionless, glowing like stars, suspended, waiting. Dare I even breathe, lest they rouse themselves from their dreaming? I sighed against my will.