Withered Flowers


The twilight was once again starting to light up the sky. He had been waiting all night. Withered flowers hung from his hand.

“Please? he said once again. Pleading, begging. “Please open?”

No answer.

He couldn’t understand. The disappointment tore his soul, broke his heart. His smile was still glued to his face, just in case.

He’d seen her in the forest, seen her walking between the trees. Her beauty made his heart beat faster, his hands shake. He wanted her. He needed her.

He walked for a long time in his dark little corner of the woods. He planned everything in detail. What he would say when she opened. What they would talk about on their walk, how she would kiss him. Everything would be perfect.

He went to pick flowers. He put on his finest shirt, combed his hair. Brought a big knife just in case she didn’t want to come with him.

None of it was any good if she didn’t open the door.


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