petals on our lips |

1

It was an uneventful morning.

A morning where I took my bus to my boring community college.

A morning where nothing but note taking took up my day.

But an irregularity occurred as I sat in my English class paying more attention to my phone's bright lit home screen than the professors lecture.

Frozen wondering what she wanted to talk about.

She had sent me a message and after much contemplation I replied.

With jumbled nerves I went to meet her after class.

I kept asking myself why she sounded so urgent.

Had something happened?

The campus was now almost completely empty.

The students were already in class.

All except her and I.

I looked at her standing alone.

Watching her recheck her phone every five seconds while looking to the other side of the campus.

Checking to see if I had sent a message back to her just sent text.

Though I had just seen her Friday, this morning she looked drastically different from then.

She seemed sick.

Her face was pale and her lips dry.

Not wanting to ask I walked up to her and smiled.

I carefully asked her what she needed me for.

Her gaze dropped from my eyes to the floor.

Her hands were fidgeting with themselves.

I held a breath.

Slowly she looked back at me and she confessed.

She confessed that she loved me.

She spoke so frustrated as if she was running out of time.

I stuttered out an unfinished word and she held out a shaky hand to stop me from going any further.

With a saddened voice she told me that she knew I didn't feel the same.

Hearing her filled me with unknowable anger.

Something about hearing her with such knowledge of what I felt made me mad.

Made me feel powerless to comfort her and tell her it wasn't true.

It made me want to deny it even though it was useless.

And angry I yelled at her.

"How would you know how I feel?"

At that, she simply smiled and brought her other hand up in front of me.

She held it tightly closed and I knew she must have something inside.

Slowly she opened her hand.

Inside her soft hand lay a single blue petal.

One so beautiful and vibrant that it confused me.

What was the purpose of this blue petal?

"What is this?"

Again she smiled but tears filled her eyes.

She took my hand and placed the petal in my cold hand.

Without another word her body turned the other way and she walked off slowly.

I couldn't bring myself to move and stop her so I watched her instead.

I watched her leave me slowly.

I knew she meant to leave me like this; confused.

As she continued off, her steps became slower and filled with struggle.

Her body trembled at each step she took.

Her knees gave out and dropped her down yet her arms with some strength held her upper body up.

Still all I did was watch.

Loudly she began to cough and those coughs became muffled.

Muffled as she vomited.

Vomiting blue vibrant roses and the petals of those roses.

That's when I knew, what that petal in my hand meant.

Even after seeing all the signs and hearing her confession,

my mind refused to think of that.

My shoulders dropped and I sucked in a breath.

I squeezed my hand tightly as I watched her.

The petal now tearing inside my hand.

My legs were planted on the ground refusing to move any closer to her.

I felt useless because I knew I couldn't help her.

Her breath started becoming raggedy and difficult.

Soon her body fell to meet the ground.

And her body went completely limp.

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