the tree || h.s. short story

~2~

Just as I remember , old but beautiful.

I gently place my hand on its rough trunk , slowly going over the engraving of our names.

Harry + Aurora

Now I know what your thinking , so cliché , but I still love it. I remember it took him so long to carve it into the strong tree trunk. But he was so determined, determined to make out love story like the ones in the movies.

I miss him.

I told him not to waste his time on carving our names , especially with his small pocketknife. But it was so cute how he refused , stubborn boy.

I slowly sit against the tree trunk , relaxing myself. It feels so nice being here , it makes me feel as though he's still here.

Like he's still inside the cabin bringing his polaroid camera and film to take pictures with , even if we took pictures every time we were here. And I'd be waiting for him , sitting against the tree trunk with my eyes closed , and he'd silently make his way over here and snap a picture of me. And I'd snap a picture of him back and tickle the crap out of him.

But it's not like that anymore.

He's not here.

I snap out of my thoughts and shift around.

Ouch!

I bring my hand up to my face , examining it. Something pointy indented the palm of my hand.

Strange.

I look down at the barren dirt and see something pointy , like a corner of a box.

I dig and dig until I see the light blue box , stained with dirt. I dust it off and read the bit of marker ink left on top of the box.

To my love , Aurora.