Cathryn,
I'm sorry. I'm sorry one thousand times. One thousand times and more.
I don't want you to leave. Please don't leave.
You've put my life on what feels like an eternal halt; I can't breathe when your face pops into my mind. My chest hurts, my head hurts, my body hurts - it hurts everywhere, inside and out. I didn't mean to hurt you, I never meant to hurt you, and somehow I feel like all this pain I'm feeling is well deserved. I didn't do it on purpose, but it was my fault, and that's what counts. Right?
You're missing out on spring in Charlotte. It's a pity, because I know it was your favorite season. I promise when the tulips come up I'll pick some for you.
Donna said this - writing you - would help. Sometimes it does, I guess. Like, it reminds me of picking tulips with you. I can see your smile in my mind. I can hear the echo of your laugh. It makes me feel good. But then sometimes the thought of you is overwhelming and writing to you and about happy things we did together only makes it worse. You won't be there when I go to give the flowers to you. And that hurts more than anything else.
Don't give up. I know I don't have the right to ask anything of you, but this feels alright, since it's not just for my benefit. So please don't give up.
- L.
YOU ARE READING
Flowers for Cathryn
Short StoryLilly Gordon is tired of routine. Everyday, everything is the same as it was the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. Her life feels short of purpose, as if it were simply meant for nothing more than following the family iti...
