5 Minute Reads | Anthology

Stolen by _Hells_Bells_

By @_Hells_Bells_

STOLEN:

I wait for him. Hidden behind the hedge in my front garden, I silently wait for him to come. I know he will. He always does, every Saturday, without fail. As expected, I hear a crackle, and the sound of feet hitting the ground softly. Sure enough, he is there, less than a meter in front of me. Well he won't get away with it this time, I think with a grim smile.

I jump out from my hiding place as he stumbles and falls to the ground , a single sunflower in his hand. I look him up and down, noting his worn sneakers, ripped jeans and oversized flannel shirt. I see his face clearly for the first time and am shocked to see that he is not much older than sixteen or seventeen years of age. His blue eyes are wide with shock, like a deer caught in the lights of oncoming traffic. I swallow hard and he pulls himself to his feet.
"What do you think you are doing?" I ask in the angriest voice I can muster. "stealing flowers from my garden." I shout. He looks at me with a guilty expression and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. I look him up and down again and beckon to him with my finger. "Come inside," I hear myself saying. "I want I know about her, if your stealing my flowers for her she must be incredible." For a few seconds, he stares at me in disbelief before following me into the house.

The front door shuts behind him and we walk down the hallway in silence. He stumbles over a basket of washing. "Sorry about the mess. I'm ninety seven years old, I can't get around like I used to." I admit.
"It's fine. I think it's a privilege to reach your grand age." He says quietly in a low voice, his words laced win something I can't quite describe...Sadness perhaps? I smooth my skirt, recognising the truth in his words. I hand him a cup of tea and gesture for him to sit down at the table with me, this he does this with a look of uncertainty. "What's your name?" I say. It's not a question. It's a demand.
"Lucas." Is the solemn reply I get.
"Well Lucas," I say. "Tell me about her." Again, it isn't a question. He swallows hard and for a moment, we say nothing at all. "What's her name?" I query.
"Joey. Short for Josephine. And her favorite flowers are sunflowers." He sips his tea for another moment. "And you're right. She is incredible. She has the most beautiful voice you could ever hear and her favorite place in the world is on the roof of her house at night when she can see the stars. Once," he says, "we tried to count them all, but we only got to fifty-three before we gave up."
"What else?" I ask.
"She dances around the kitchen when she cooks and sings while she's getting ready for school. Her favorite food is pumpkin soup. I love the way she crinkles her nose when she's thinking particularly hard and The way she absentmindedly taps on the tabletop when she's at school. I love her warm brown eyes that aren't really brown, they're more of a hazel to be honest, hiding a thousand emotions and a hundred million thoughts. I love the freckle constellations on her nose, like stars on her skin and I love the coconut smell that follows her from room to room. Her favorite smell is coffee and her favorite sound of rain on the tin roof of her fathers workshop. I visit her every Saturday." He says all this with a face of unreadable emotions, the only thing giving his feelings away were the tears streaming down his eyes.

"Is she waiting for you?" I ask.
"Yes." He says with a weak smile.
"Take me to her." I say in a forceful tone. For a minute, there is silence as he stares at his feet.

"Okay."

We walk to the end of the street, in his hands the sunflower from earlier on. A wave of confusion rushes over me as we stop at the end of the road, just before my street ends and it turns onto a busy highway. He takes my hand and helps me down the grassy slope on the side of the road. I inhale sharply when I see it. My mouth is slightly open and I am left speechless.

The small white cross is barely visible underneath the overgrown flowers and plants and I feel something inside me soften. I know all too well what a white cross on the side of the road means- road accident.

I swallow hard and blink back a tear. "Maybe," I say slowly "next time you come to get flowers, you might come inside... Keep an old lady company."

"I think i'd like that." He agrees with a combination of surprise and uncertainty.

He lays the sunflower next to the cross and we walk back up the street.