𝑺 𝑬 𝑹 𝑬 𝑵 𝑰 𝑻 𝒀 (18+)

Thirty-seven.

                              S E R E N I T Y

                                          ♥

What did you buy a man that had everything? I'd been to nearly a dozen shops and nothing seemed to catch my interest. Everything was either too bland, too loud, or too strange. I was just about to give up when I came across a little antique shop readying to close. I ran up to the door and waved politely, the old man smiled and stepped aside for me to enter letting a white cat escape in the process.

"I'm so sorry, should I go get her?" I asked in a worried tone.

"She's fine, she just likes to stretch her legs. Come in dear." I shrugged and walked around the store examining everything it had to offer. Nothing caught my eye in particular besides a few pieces of jewelry but Noah didn't wear any. Maybe he would start if I gifted him a ring or a necklace. He didn't seem to be the ungrateful type.

"Looking for anything in particular dear?" The store clerk called out. I sighed and turned to him, a defeated smile on my face.

"I'm looking for a gift for a grumpy man."

"Grumpy men are hard to please," he tapped on his chin and looked around the store.

"You're telling me. Thank you for keeping the store open but I think I'm just going t—"

"Does he like music?" He interrupted.

"Uh, yeah he likes music." I followed the man to the back of the store where he kept dozens of instruments and records. I wiped the dust off of an Etta James track and placed it on a record player before looking around.

"This would be wonderful if he didn't already own half of these instruments."

The old man danced his way through a door and urged me to follow him, "do any of these trinkets look like something he'd like?" I laughed at his little shuffle and took a look around but it was no use, I was never going to find anything, and—oh, that might work.

It was almost like a snow globe filled with water and the brightest red roses I'd ever seen. In the center was a stone bench and a girl in a white dress holding a singular rose in her hand. Once you shook it up snow danced in the globe and settled back on the ground. The whole scene reminded me of that mysterious tattoo on Noah's arm. It was perfect.

"How much for this?" I turned to the clerk and he stopped dancing to look at my hands.

"That was my wife's. My Rosie. She—she would be happy someone is finally taking it home." He stuttered.

"Oh! If this has sentimental value I'll find something else you—"

"No, no, it's yours. I didn't think anyone would ever look at it again."

I glanced at the piece in my hand and shook my head. It was beautiful, it looked handcrafted as well. Why would anyone not—"did you make it yourself?"

"Do you have an hour?"

I smiled and took a seat on a dusty chair, "I can take some time."

The old man's eyes lit up when he talked about his wife. Rose Mccoy was her name. Her nickname was Rosie because her cheeks were always as red as a rose no matter the temperature. To no surprise, her favorite flowers was roses as well. She kept them all around the house, even used them for her wedding bouquet. When they settled in a house instead of having children Rose asked for a garden and a white cat named Moon. They lived happily together for forty years.

Then Rose fell ill.

Her husband never had much of a green thumb so when Rose got sick, so did her roses. He saved three of them and preserved them before carving the inside of the globe. It was the last gift to Rose, to remember her like she would have wanted. She'd ask him to put it in the shop before she died so someone else could find joy in what he'd made her. Until me, there was no one else interested in the piece but he had no interest in selling it either.