Reflection

Pitch-black crowd

  It's dark. The night has probably come already. The institute room is thoroughly perceptible thanks to an old oil lamp resting in a corner. The place is mainly occupied by an unstable bed adjusted against a wall, and a large piano covered in sheet music and old tea cups. An alabaster vase sits on a miniature desk made of white oak. It holds flowers, dozens of flowers. And, next to the bouquet, a herbarium lies open. Lilacs are drying on the top corner of one page, while droplets of ink drop from a quill on the other in a regular rythme.
  Leaning on the edge of a closed window, there is a black haired girl. She looks up at the ceiling. She remembers.

  A dark dense crowd, mouths simulating profound sadness and sorrow, fake tears of compassion or deception, hypocritical looks scrutinizing a wooden bed, eyes greedy for money...
  Coming to a funeral dressed in black is not that of an effort. It is definitely the least. And most people there didn't bother to do much more. The girl saw their looks, their smirks, their whole body revealing boredom.
Was she the only true one there ? Probably. Definitely.
  Tired of this disgusting mascarade, she remembers running away after having carefully disposed lilac on her brother's grave.

  Olive wakes up, startled by a sudden pain in her back. She had fallen asleep again. Sunlight is already peering through the cracks of the window. She stands up, swearing and gathering herself together. Now is not the time to get sleepy ; finals week approaches dangerously and she's better off practicing her piano. 
  In a short time, the room is perfectly in order : her bed is done, fallen petals lie in the herbarium, sheet music is neatly piled up and washed cups dry on the balcony.
 
  But as Olive sits in front of her instrument, she hears a knock on her bedroom door. She sighs. It must be Belle. The door cracks open :
  - You lazy grumpy owl, come out of here !!! It is indeed Belle. We haven't seen you at breakfast for a week now ! Stop hiding and follow me ! Oh and please don't make your puppy face cuz this time I'll pull you by the hair if I have to.
  Belle is a bright young girl, about the same age as our main character, with a messy blond braid and daring blue eyes. She stands anoyed, arms crossed, in front of the piano, leaving absolutely no choice to Olive but to follow her.
 
  A split second later, two girls are running down the stairs, laughing and arguing meaninglessly about trivial things in life.

Personal note :
Hi, it's my first time writing a story so it's not real good yet. Any advice is warmly welcomed :).