There’s a bunch of roses tied to the lamppost at the bottom of the road; red heads drooping; fewer petals every day marking the time since. Soon only the family and the driver will remember.
Your flowers are in another town; nine-hour round-trip on the bus. Longer if I miss
the connection.
Yesterday, your brother’s girlfriend tried to tell me why you were there, but I stopped
her.
Like a rose after the bloom, memories need to be tended, or only wilted leaves and a
rotten stem remain and then, what would have been the point of us at all?
Sally is a burnt-out teacher who wants to be a full-time writer. She has been published on-line and in paper anthologies with micros, flashes, and short stories. Sally hosted a Flash Fiction workshop at the Bournemouth Writing Festival this year and hopes to do more like this.
This story was shortlisted in the May 24 Monthly Micro Competition