Deep red and tender pink were the colors of the single rose that remained on the aisle, untrampled upon and untarnished. Though most of the bitter little thorns had been removed to protect delicate fingers, one still remained, trying valiantly to protect its petal covered treasure. The beauty lay there still while its kinsmen had left, still trying to soak up the last rays of sun from the sunset, knowing that both the sun’s and its time left on this earth were limited.

A teenage girl came walking through the abandoned outdoor wedding scene, weaving through mixed-and-matched folding chairs to reach the aisle. Laughter from the reception echoed behind her as she walked slowly up the velvet-lined walkway, imagining the day when it would be her turn to walk down an aisle for real. She had almost reached the altar when she noticed the rose, lying abandoned. Picking it up, she brought it to her nose and sniffed delicately, inhaling the sweet fragrance that was even now beginning to fade.

Sticking the flower behind her ear with a flourish, she ignored the sting of the thorn against her ear and once more began to walk, dreaming prettily of being the blooming bride, on the arm of her father while carrying a bouquet much like the one the rose behind her ear had once been a part of. She envisioned his freckled face beaming at her from the altar, grinning that lazy half-grin she had come to love as her father handed her off to him. The dash of red set her bushy brown hair off to an advantage, and seemed only to add to the prettiness of her chocolate-colored eyes.

The rose fell to the ground as she mounted the step to the altar, wilted and neglected. She took no notice of its absence, and lying on the ground it once more became forgotten.

Just as her invisible wedding was about to conclude, with her saying those two fateful words, she heard a noise from behind and whirled around. There he was, the real version, not in reality standing at the altar with her, about to exchange vows, but instead standing behind her, watching. She blushed, hoping he would not see how pink her cheeks got in the darkening light of the sun. Wordlessly, he stepped forward, smiling at her so she nearly melted.

He stooped from his tall height and picked up the twice-abandoned rose. But as the proffered it to her, it seemed to gain new beauty, as though it were once again a young rose in its lovely prime. She took it, and all the hope and love it offered, knowing without words that it represented all the passion, love and desire he had ever felt for her. And she tucked it behind her ear once more, at the same time accepting his unspoken pledge and declaring her same feelings, as though wearing her secret emotions on her sleeve, for all to see.

His face lit up beneath his messy red-orange hair, understanding that she had recognized the true meaning behind the gesture of the rose and accepted it with all her heart. Stepping forward, he took her hands in his, and, just as she had imagined, leaned down and kissed her with all the love and devotion he had. She returned the kiss eagerly, loving it and him for the sweet sensation it gave her not just on her lips, but all over and throughout her body, making her heart speed up.

When they finally broke apart, they took hands and walked slowly back to the party, the rose still tucked in loving memory behind her ear, a sign to all who saw it that they were joined in love, a love that would never wilt.




Waves of bright fire danced in the light of the setting sun, bathing the whole scene in a blood-red glow. The waves curled and tumbled down silky pale gold cloth, and sea blue eyes provided cool contrast to the hotness of the fiery hair. Light freckles dusted the cute little nose over skin that looked so pale in the fading light.

All this beauty was attributed to a tall, teenaged girl, who was idly dangling a hand in the soothing wetness of a small pond as she watched the sunset. A white lily, once woven into her flame-like hair, untangled itself in a soft breeze and floated gently down to the water, swaying on the ripples created from a pebble recently thrown in from a mysterious, nearby force. The girl started and turned to locate the intruder.

A tall, thin boy stepped out of the shadows of a tall oak tree, grinning slightly. There was an air of fading exuberance about him, as though he had just come from a boisterous party, which indeed he had. His piercing green eyes sought hers out from beneath a mop of untidy black hair and a lightning-shaped scar, and she blushed. He, too, was flushed, and suddenly glad for the meager protection his glasses offered him from the irresistible blue of her eyes.

She looked back across the pond, her face still the fiery red so curiously mirrored in the sky and her hair. Softly, quietly, he sat beside her, fingering another pebble—he did not risk catching her gaze again, though unbeknownst to him, she wished with all her heart he would.

They sat there like that for a while, each seemingly intent on some element of nature or another. Finally, as the sun slipped behind the broad horizon like a giant galleon and the red in the sky turned to pink, he reached out and took her delicate hand in his own.

The icy blue eyes looked into his and did not look away, but rather seemed to melt. She intertwined her long, slender fingers with his rougher ones and gave his hand a light squeeze. He looked surprised at first, but quickly recovered and squeezed back, tentatively giving her a small smile. She smiled back, and their hands dropped, the moment over. Yet they were happy that it happened, rather than sad that it was over, as the old saying goes: It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Especially when there was a chance, outside the foreseeable future, that the flame of love could be rekindled once more, for perhaps the embers never truly died.

He clambered clumsily to his feet in the twilight, and offered her his hand once more, but this time to support and help her off the ground. She took it and pulled herself up, dusted off, nodded to him, and headed in the direction of the dying down party. He watched her go, looking slightly crestfallen, but pulled himself together enough to follow in her wake.