A Lone Rose

Prompt from yeahwriters: someone buying a rose

It was Valentines' Day and somehow he had found himself in the busiest street in town. This street, although lined with florists and gift shops, was packed with men, young and old. All of them had one thing in common: they were shopping for obligatory gifts for the special ladies in their lives:  their moms, wives, girlfriends, or even daughters.

But not him. He didn't even know how he ended up there. He always finished his Valentines shopping a day before the actual day, mostly to avoid crowds. He hated crowds. He would buy chocolates and hide them in the farthest part of the fridge, hoping she would not crave for a snack in the middle of the night and see it there.

He never bought her red roses, though.

He was reminded by this when he was brought back to the present by the screechy shouts of an old man. "Get your roses here! Fresh picks! Your lady will love them!" He picked up a single rose and smelled it.

He lied. Technically, he bought her a bouquet of roses once. It was on their first official date. He remembered hesitating about buying them for her, but he did anyway, thinking she would appreciate the gesture.

She didn't.

"What are those?!" She asked immediately after opening the door for him. He stood there awkwardly, wondering if she expected him to answer.

"Roses?

"I know what those are! But roses? Really?" She grabbed the bouquet from him and led him inside the house. She was wearing a black lace dress that hugged her figure beautifully. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back. She looked wonderful and he thought that maybe he screwed up by bringing her roses. How should he have known? Most girls like roses.

He watched her in amazement, as she disappeared into the kitchen with his roses. He was so sure she would throw them away.

She came back holding a crystal vase with his roses. She set it down on her dining table before she turned to him. "Bring me roses again next time and I will kill myself!" She laughed but all that registered in his mind was that there's going to be a next time.

"Try to get that around because if anyone brings roses to my grave, I will come back to life and throw those darn roses back at them! I swear to you!"

She laughed again heartily and his nervousness at that moment melted away. He realized that this woman was someone he could feel at ease with.

That night, they went out. He remembered falling in love with her that night.

On their third date, he asked her why she hated roses so much. She said she just didn't find them beautiful at all and she didn't understand why roses symbolize love. "It's the lazy flower. Men don't give it a thought when they buy roses! They become meaningless. They should give a lady a flower that describes her, you know?"

So for their next date, he gave her gardenias. Beautiful, timeless, elegant.

"You going to buy that or something!?" The old man's voice brought him back again. He absent-mindedly nodded and took out a dollar from his pocket. He handed it to the man, who eyed him suspiciously. "You sure you don't want a dozen? You ain't gon' get laid tonight with a single rose!" The old man laughed and shook his head.

He tried to smile. Even if I bought a hundred flowers, I'm not going to get laid tonight, he thought in spite of himself. At that, he truly smiled.

He muttered a thanks to the old man before he walked away. He knew where he had to go.

He walked until he reached her new home.

The grass he was walking on felt damp beneath his shoes. It had just rained, after all. He twirled the single rose he held by his side. It had only been the second time he visited he and he wasn't sure he was ready. But he couldn't turn back anymore. He had to do it anyway, and today seemed like a perfect day. It was Valentines' Day. His heart pounded and threatened to burst out of his chest any moment. He looked around to see if anyone could hear it beating so loudly. There was hardly anyone around, except for a woman who had her face buried in her hands, sitting beside a grave stone.

He stopped until he saw the familiar marble headstone that stuck out from the wet earth that indicated that someone had been buried there not too long ago. There was hardly any grass around it yet. It had only been a month.

Kneeling beside her, he placed the lone rose on top of the grave marker and hoped she would keep her promise. He would wait.

1 comments:

Ivan Stoikov - Allan Bard said...

Nice blog, posts! Will be glad to follow you and share some thoughts, recommendations, etc in the future! I guess you'll like a suggestion of mine as well: using sites like zazzle.com, cafepress. com, fiverr? They could be a good way to promote your works/blog, etc and to help "remove" stupidity in the streets like headlines on t-shirts, fridge-magnets, cups, etc: My Boyfriend kisses Better Than Yours, FBI - female body inspector, etc. Not everything we see and think of should be about sex, right? It would be much better if there were more nice pictures of mythical creatures, nature, etc, good thoughts, poems, etc? I'm allanbard there, I use some of my illustrations, thoughts, poems from my books (like: The thinnest thing in the world is the border between good and evil, One can fight money only with money, Even in the hottest fire there's a bit of water, or
Let's watch the moon, let's meet the sun!
Let's hear soon the way the Deed was done!
Let's listen to the music the shiny crystals played,
let's welcome crowds of creatures good and great...
etc). I bet such lines are much better than the usual we see every day? Best wishes! Let the wonderful noise of the sea always sounds in your ears! (a greeting of the water dragons' hunters - my Tale Of The Rock Pieces).

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