One shots

Three

Apologies if French is wrong, I'm using a translator

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Cherry Blossoms, Why Can't I Hate You
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A woman stood under a cherry blossom tree in Paris, France. She stared at the Eiffel Tower from where she was. With a hand on the tree to support her, she cried silently while the petals were softly blown off their branches by the winds. Her beautiful brown hair blew about  and hid her tears. Had she not witnessed that scene, her tears would not be flowing.

Comment la vie est cruelle..
{How cruel life is..}

For once in her life she wished to not have perfect eyesight. She stood there under the cherry blossom tree with a flurry of emotions. Sadness, anger towards him and herself, rage towards his secret others. For what reason had she fallen for him? That ladykiller photographer.

Si ce n'est pas pour ces maudites fleurs...
{If not for these damned flowers...}

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One year ago at this time

Under those cherry blossoms a woman sat in the shade of those gorgeous trees on a bench. Her and the beauty of the scenery had caught the eye of a photographer. And so the man sat down on the other side of the bench and exclaimed to her:

Jolie dame, vous vous asseyez dans un endroit déjà magnifique et faire une scène plus belle.
{Pretty lady, you sit in an already magnificent place and make a more beautiful scene.}

Filled with amusement the woman tried to stifle a giggle. She didn't turn towards him just yet and continued to look at the beautiful pale pink blanketing the area. "Monsieur, you think too highly of me. I am but a plain girl apart of a grand picture." The photographer laughed. "Mademoiselle, you kick yourself down too much. A pretty woman such as you should take pride in your looks. However, my point in striking a conversation with you was to ask if I could take a picture of you with these lovely flowers."

Si ça ne vous dérange pas, alors ça ne me dérange pas.
{If it bothers you not, then I don't mind.}

She looked at him as she'd said that. From that moment until the future, the flirt had done many awful things under her nose. Indeed how cruel the world is.

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Her tears spilled more as she looked up at the beautiful, soft pink flowers blooming on the branches. No matter her rage, these flowers took it away.

C'est ma faute... Je ne pourrais jamais t'en vouloir.
{It was my fault... I could never blame you.}

It caused a scene but she crouched down with her forehead against the tree as she looked down and cried. As if to comfort the weeping woman a breeze blew by and made a beautiful storm of pink petals. She looked up, forehead and eyes red, and witnessed the beauty. There she told herself:

A partir de maintenant, je ne m'attarderai pas sur lui, mais qui et ce qui me rendra heureux.
{From now on, I will not dwell on him, but who and what will make me happy.}