At 5 o'clock, he came, a large smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. But then he saw the rose on the wooden bench, the rose he had left for her yesterday. He looked around, but he saw nobody, and his shoulders slumped in disappointment.
He sang a beautiful song today, but she didn't hear it. She didn't know how disappointed he was to see his rose from yesterday, sitting alone on the bench, but it would eventually be okay. He didn't know that she had something important that afternoon at 5 o'clock, and that she was late, but it would eventually be okay.
He got up and left, taking the bouquet along with him. When she arrived, she was breathless, and disappointed.
She had missed him.
As she walked home, she passed an empty rubbish bin. Well, it was supposed to be empty, except that there was a beautiful bouquet of roses in there. She picked it up, smoothing the velvety petals of a rose, wondering who had thrown such a beautiful gift. It was such a shame. She decided to take it home.
If only she knew who it was for.
YOU ARE READING
Spring
Short StoryIn which he sings and plays his guitar everyday without knowing of the lost girl who sits behind a tree, listening to his music.
