A Better Ending

The crunch of autumn leaves broken underfoot is mourned by the soft whistling of a gentle and cool breeze. A figure clad in a drab black suit wanders a small path that winds through a modest park. In his left hand he clutches a pitiful bouquet of what appears to be handpicked flowers, the soiled stems a testimony to a hasty gathering. In his eyes is numb pain, his eyelids twitching to conceal the witness his tears would bear against his pride.

A plain brown bench, warmed by the setting sun, promises comfort as two meticulously polished shoes stop in front of it. A hand reaches out to caress the firm, rough surface of the bench as the suns rays tickle trembling fingers. The man seats himself heavily on the bench and looks out on the tall trees, reaching to the sky as if in silent desperation. His fingers run up his neck and rub the stubble on his chin and cheeks.

He has no purpose other than to stare at the sun set, reminiscing on the little turns and twists in the road of his life. His heart skips a beat and then his head drops down; all the trivialities that keep one alive return to punish him for ignoring them. He lifts his head as his face contorts into a plaintive cry of desperation.

Then, the merciful wind blew her his way. He blinked in shock, then watched enthralled as her silky hair danced in the sweet scented breeze. Her lips curved upwards in a demure smile, while her dainty steps seemed to approach in slow motion. He shook his head and turned away, finding the beauty in front of him frightful, when in truth he vainly attempted to suppress his desire to feel.

A delicate hand brushed his shoulder as he screamed inwardly, fearing to face this being that seemed to exude forgiveness and another emotion he could remember from better days--love. Time stopped as he heard his heartbeat and rotated his head to view the being out of the corner of his eye. Her smile was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow that exuded concern and penetrated his protective mask.

He knew it was her.

His teeth chattered; he squinted at her as his eyelids spilled their bowl of tears onto his pale cheeks. Her response was to place her hands on the back of his head as his sobs shook her too. Her chin jutted upwards as her clear blue eyes became blurry with unshed tears. One diamond drop fell, and it sparkled like dew upon the rose petal of her soft pink cheek.

The world was silent. Not a creature breathed. Once he stopped his trembling, his eyes were drawn to hers, and in a wordless understanding, they both knew. A brave smile lighted his face and she sighed; an entrancing sound, music to his ears. She saw what she came to see.

She turned to leave, he leapt up and spoke her name. She turned quietly to see him mouth the words, to hear him whisper the phrase that she loved to hear. With one more smile for him to treasure, she faced away from him and vanished.

Suddenly, he was standing in front of a polished marble structure, reading her name. He bent down to deposit his bouquet, brushing the soil off the stems of the blue and purple flowers. He had not forgotten her favorite colors. Nor had he forgotten her sudden and undeserving demise. His head turned quickly away, his heart filling with regret and self-condemnation. If only he had, if only she had... Anger is a blinding thing.


He turned upward toward the sky, to let the orange sun wash it all away. All that mattered now was their reconciliation. He turned back to the gray stone, leaned over and kissed it. He felt light; he was just starting to live again. He trudged back to the path he was on earlier, and fixed his eye on the horizon. Winter was coming. It's a long way back home.