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The Flowers

It’s been exactly two months since I’ve seen him. It’s driving me crazy. He told me that he’d call. He hasn’t even texted me. I’ve called, I’ve texted, I’ve emailed, everything: Nothing. Not even a hey, how are you? My eighteenth birthday has come and gone. He always told me that somehow, he would come see me that day. I guess it’s pointless to say he didn’t, ‘cause obviously...


But let me tell you how it started; about us. You probably think I’m an obsessed psycho. Come to think of it, you aren’t too far off. But you don’t know..


It’s second semester, senior year. I am sitting in my usual seat, ten minutes early like I usually am, when he walks in. He hands the teacher a note and smiles at him. I wish that he would smile at me. He looks over at me, and I drop my eyes down to the notes on yesterday’s lecture. Even though I was trying to ignore him, I could feel him staring at me from the seat right next to me. I look at him. He has blond hair that’s cut close to his head. He has gray eyes. I asked him what he wanted. He asked me out on a date.


I wore a black dress with a red bow in my hair. He wore jeans and a brown leather jacket. He took me to the park, where he had set up a picnic for our third date. He laughed at the way my shirt refused to stay down. I laughed at the look n his face when I shoved grass down his shirt. He leaned over to me, and he touched my lips with his. His touch left me tingling and searching for breath. I smiled at him and looked down at my hands. He put a hand on my chin and kissed me again.


He told me that he loved me. He told me that I was the only girl he wanted. I told him that I couldn’t live without him. He kissed me and the tingling just wouldn’t stop. My head started feeling funny, and my heart was racing. He began to unbutton my dress, and I didn’t stop him.


He began to talk to other girls. His attention started to drift. I gave him my entire being.


He told me that he had to leave; a new job for his dad in another state. My birthday being two weeks away, he said that he would be there for it. I said that I would never forget him. He said that he would call me. I gave him my locket. He gave me flowers.


I stare at the flowers. The petals wilting, crumpling, and falling. No calls. No texts. Nothing. I watch another petal begin it’s descent, and I imagine that I am the flower. My petals growing weak, and my stem beginning to fail me. The bee doesn’t buzz around me anymore. It’s taken what it wanted. I am nothing now. Just a withered flower.





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