In front of the Queen's Garden- Short Story

Infront of the Queen's Garden

When the sun rose, you put on a warm jacket, and then left the old, dark, dusty room with all your memories pasted on its grey walls. You were looking for something better and beautiful, but you forgot that you already had a beautiful inner-self. True that it was odd, but it was you; truly and honestly; you. Before leaving the room, you smiled in front of a dusty old mirror, that reflected you greyer. You could see yourself in that smile, the smile that you did not want to accept.

When you hurried to the bus, you suddenly saw a rose, it was all white, and you forgot that the bus arrives your city in ten minutes. When you plucked the white, bright rose, a jade green, or more a blue butterfly started following the flower. You ran straight as if to play with the poor blue butterfly, that was seeking the rose.

You almost forgot that you wrote her, asking her to be there at nine o' clock in the morning. When you realized, it was eight forty and you had missed the bus that goes to the city. However, you knew that she may question you about your honesty, as all you mentioned in the last letter you sent were almost boasts about yourself. However, she still sent you a letter, asking you to be in the Queen's Garden at nine o'clock in the morning.
She, on the other hand, was getting ready to see you. Even though you ran before a white rose and played against a pretty creature with bluish wings, she, on the other hand, got ready with her pink dress with a pattern of red polka dots printed on it. She was there, hoping things. For a while, you forgot all the queerness you had, that you were not equal or equivalent to others who roamed around you. You wanted to wear a mask, meeting her, and you then had a white rose on your palm, with a blue butterfly following you, as you walked.
"White roses are for the deceased", "Red roses are for the ones you love."

You got scared, for a while, when you realized what you've been taught as a kid on symbolism, when you were younger. Probably, she also must have been taught the same. You did not want her dead! Therefore, you left the white rose. You threw it in a bin, and the butterfly still kept following you, not the rose in the dust-bin.

"She would like me if I carry a red rose!" you thought.
Then, you bought one, not taking much time, because you realized that it was five to nine. You did not wait for the shop keeper to give you remainder. You let her keep the coins and ran faster. You were now only fifteen steps away from the Queen's Garden, where as you saw the huge pine trees swing their branches against the cold, yet gentle, mountain wind. You felt relieved, for the first time in a while.

But, when you closed your eyes, you felt something gentle, touching your neck, and it was not her, but the butterfly that followed you. You cried, as if you realized that meeting her was not what you really wanted. As if you realized that you were not honest, and as if you realized that you have cheated yourself.
Without knowing whether you were there or not, she waited. You knelt down, and then you cried. You cried for fifteen minutes, in the middle of the street next to the Queen's Garden, in public. It was ten past nine. You were ten minutes late, and she was about to leave. However, the unknown blue winged creature, the innocent butterfly, never left.

"Do you actually like me?" She once mentioned in a love letter, and you replied, saying "Yes".

The confusion led to this tragedy, that you had to cover yourself underneath her. Whatever was happening was not right. You were not born to cry, but to spread your wings, and fly high in the sky. But, on top of all, your dishonesty made her wait there for ten minutes.
You could no longer hold the pain. A passer-by, a youthful one, just like you, noticed you, took you to a safer place and made sure that you cried no more. He smiled, and made you smile. You told him the exact story, everything that happened. Then, you felt ashamed. Therefore, you realized that hiding yourself literary killed you inside, not knowing who and what you were.
Next morning, you woke up, in a different space, and felt happy, seeing the camelias you received from a person who actually loved you; who accepted you as you, who accepted your beauty, the truth and all of you.