Sunflower

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

This is the first time in a while that I am going to be writing something really original.

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Yellow and brown.

I looked the flower in the face and clenched my fist tight, resting it on the table in front of me, just inches away from the vase the flower was in.

I'm not sure why I saved the thing. I never wanted it. I tried to convince him not to give it to me, but, rejecting the gift would crush him and I knew that.

I released my fist and laid my palm flat on the table, its cold surface dragging down the temperature of my hot hand.

"I read somewhere that the sunflower represents foolish passion... and the sun, obviously. I got you the biggest one that the florist had."

He was so happy to be standing in front of me with that big, stupid flower. His smile was crooked, like it always was, and his eyes were shining, bright and blue.

I tried to smile, but, I knew it looked about as unhappy as I felt. I took the flower after arguing with him over it for a few minutes, then I walked to my car as fast as I could.

I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away, burning a hole in my bumper as I drove home.

Yellow and brown.

The vase was clear and I could see the stem drinking, thirsty from the long, dry voyage to my house.

It's hard to say no when the only questions you're asked scream 'YES!'

His fingers brushed mine when he handed me the flower, and I could tell that he got his hopes up that I would reach back for a second touch. He was relishing in the feel of our skins together. I was not.

"Thanks, Danny."

I was nervous he would expect more. I wanted to leave more than anything.

My heart felt yellow and brown, but, not like a sunflower.

My heart felt yellow and brown, like a bruise.