The Flower That Withered
I lie on the green pastures, with a cool breeze tickling my face, whirling my hairs and blades of grass brushing against my face. I stare at the storm clouds above get dark in conspiracy, with an eerie silence stretching between me and the world. Jade comes up and leans against my chest, only to eventually fall in the embrace of my arms. We stay in this position for god-knows-how-long. The cool wind is hustling, the leaves are rattling, the birds are chirping, and we are in the comfort of our palace of silence.
More dark clouds starts settling on the horizon, slowly inching towards the sky above us. Birds flow away like tiny dots below the clouds, going hither-tither, trying to find refuge from the dampness. I stay lying down, daring the rain to come.
Eventually though, raindrops land on my head, shimmering in the remnants of sunlight the sun had to offer, a tiny drop of bleeding rainbow. Jade slides down my arm and gets on her feet. “It’s raining”, she says.
“It’s raining”, she repeats, leaning towards me, to kiss me playfully on my right cheek.
“And that means we have to go inside because…”
“Let’s just lay here, you lie with me, and just forget the world.” I hold her hand like a delicate flower.
Jade lies down next to me. The rain hits both of us, on our faces, and the rain drops slither down our bodies like tiny streams of rainbows. They catch the light and play around with it, magnifying its vibrancy tenfold. I hand her a rose that I had bought for her. She smiles, and it catches the rain and twinkles like her eyes.
“What do you call moments like these?”, Jade asks me, examining the rose, holding it close to her beautiful face.
“Memories”, I whisper to the sunny air, ages later, in that same green pasture, but with no Jade next to me this time, holding that rose.