Our Little Cherry Blossoms

twenty four. meeting

ＪＵＬＹ (( ＣＡＳＥ ))

I awake to obnoxious, pitchy sirens wailing in my ears and turn my dazed stare through the wired fence at the commotion. My head jolts to consciousness the instant I focus on who the paramedics are guiding to the ambulance, subsequently triggering a shockwave which surges down my body and shoves me from the bench, flying down the stone stairs to slam the button and fling open the gate. Chocolate coated tresses float around in a blur at the center of my gaze.

"Excuse me sir do you know this woman?"

Their tangy voices melt into a susurrus mist of birdsong and animated whispers from the gathering crowd. I slow down as I approach the paramedics who move away when nod my head, then I place a tentative hand on Lark's trembling shoulder. Her raucous sobs strangle suddenly, and guttural whimpers begin dribbling out of her body - I feel that if I so much as move to wrap my arms around her, she may splinter into tiny pieces and get carried off by the wind. I can tell she doesn't want me here. The jittery childish anticipation I felt this morning withers into a despondent murk moping about at the pit of my stomach. Resignation and anger flares and burns softly as I move my fingers from her shoulder to her tangled brown hair, trapping several strands between my thumb and forefinger. Creamy sunlight reflecting off her strands creates an illusion of tattered feathers, the distant birdsong resonating in my chest.

"Lark?"

She visibly stiffens at the sound of my voice, but I don't retract my hand. I want to cry and scream at the same time, ask her why she's treating me like this, why she's acting this way after promising that impossible promise she burdened me with six years ago. Why, after loving me all that time ago, suddenly make me feel as if I'm trash in her eyes. Instead of touching her again, I circle around and stand in front of her twisted, tear-streaked face. Irregular bouts of sobbing contorts her features into a crumpled wet mess as I look down at her, eyes obscured by the swollen creases of her eyelids. This is not the fantasy I've been imagining in the time we spent apart, for my hands have turned to stone and my heart continues to harden with each blushing petal that sinks toward the earth. I speak again.

"If you still feel the same way, take my hand."

The tingling sensation of my heart preparing to break clouds every pool of rational thought, it doesn't occur to me that she may truly be injured. Blinking, I glimpse crumbs of dead cherry blossoms tumbling from her coat pocket when she slides out her hand to reach for mine; some of the litter is tucked in the crevices of her nails. My anger quickly caves in on itself - I want to slam my face into the ground for coming so close to loathing her. I step forward and touch her forefinger with my own, feeling her hand spreading across my palm and squeezing it weakly, but I don't return the gesture.

"Do... y-you...?"

Her throaty chirp is barely audible and nearly blends in with the air. I swallow hard, letting go of her hand. I reach for the squarish bulge in my back pocket, tugging it free from my jeans before using both hands to press it into her palm. Finally Lark raises her chin to envelop me with an incredulous stare that sends me back to the familiar lush green forest from six years ago. My heart flings wildly about my chest with new anticipation. She moves her attention to the velvety box we're holding and exhales tremulously, her voice is steadier this time.

"...Doing t-this is very risky."

"If it works I will fly over the moon."

"It almost d-didn't...but my answer is yes."