The Rose

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It hits me like a blast of icy wind, as he sits there. I watch him studying the rose carefully, slowly twisting the thorny stem in his gloved hands. The delicate blush of the petals rotates gently in the shadows, softly perfect. His eyes glitter with moonlit concentration and I wonder what he makes of it.

I have known this boy all of my life, but tonight I see him for the first time.

He holds the long stemmed rose as if it is his most precious possession in the world, and I suppose that it is. It is his heart, the precious gift that he will give to her. A little piece of himself, fragile and irretrievable. I wonder if she will treasure it as I would, or whether she will discard it, forget it.

I sigh, my agony swallowed by the night. He doesn’t hear, he thinks of her. I shift on the bench we share; pulling my coat tighter about my shoulders, suddenly wishing I could cloak myself in him, feel his warmth. Shivering, I imagine a world where I am the recipient of that rose.

But my dreams dissolve as he stands, turns to me one last time. There is hope and fear mingling in his cerulean eyes. He smiles nervously, asks for my blessing. I give it; my voice hollow, my heart aching.

He leaves me, going to her. I watch him until he is just another shadow, just another wraith in the night.

I watch, and realise I am too late.

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This piece won First Place in the 6/26 Daily Flash Fiction Contest. Thank You Tehanu !
Also, Thank You to kelly1202 for the both the brilliant Awardicon and the great Sig!