Misunderstood Rose

He was walking her back to her place. He had given her a rose, she had asked him to carry it for her.

“You should not walk me all the way to the porch,” she said, “My father cannot see you. Wait by the fence until I get inside. I hope the neighbors don’t see you.”

“Maybe I should say goodbye now?”

“No, walk me a little more. Look at the sky, the stars are so beautiful.”

He looked up and sighed. The stars really used to be beautiful to him.

“I was showing my father the photos the other night. He says you’re not a very good photographer. Could you try more next time?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I don’t really care what your father thinks.”

“How can you say that?”

“Look,” he said, “Why don’t you just move out and live with me? We could rent an apartment together.”

“No, you should rent one first so I can see you could take care of me.”

He did not feel it was a noble quest anymore. He was no longer a knight.

“Yeah,” he said, “Except I can’t afford on my own.”

“Well then we need to wait, don’t we? My mother said the same to my father. He was from a poor family too. So he left her and worked until he could afford to take care of her. He says he had to become worthy of her.”

The rose felt prickly. Its head was dropping, he lifted it higher as they came to a small zebra crossing. He glanced bot ways to see if a car was coming, it was clear. She glanced both ways right after he did.

“You don’t even look both ways,” she said, “Why do I have to do it?”

He dropped the rose in the middle of the street and started walking in the opposite direction. She began to wail.

2 Replies to “Misunderstood Rose”

  1. Tell me, mr writer, why do I feel sorry for her, why do I want to turn around and get back, why do I always have to feel guilty.

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