Roses

The scene that lay before me was one that of pure bewilderment. The dull kitchen now scattered with scarlet petals as the man, my true love, lay in my arms and on my lap. My cream colored dress too were covered in rufescent blossoms. The phone in my left hand positioned against my cranium, listening only to the words on the other end spoken by the individual. The words had no specific meaning as I myself could only focus on the signs of life exuding from the body. Whether from utter shock or bewilderment, I sat there on the white tiled floor which not even a a tear to show for myself.

I suppose I was always like this. On one hand, I was the gentle woman that my friends had known of me yet I was also that cruel seductress those middle school boys are warned about. To be honest, I don’t know which is me at this moment but looking at my situation, I would assume the latter too. But I loved that man, how could that possibly be my doing?

Forgive me, I was so far too gone in my emotional state that I completely forgot what lead up to this. Perhaps first, I should establish the events that have lead me to these circumstances. Introductions are in order, so for now I will call myself “I” and the man shall be “he”. Names aren’t exactly important after all.

So there I was in our kitchen preparing supper for the evening when I heard the familiar creak of the front door open and shut over a period of time of only a passing moment. A small smirk formed on my features as I expecting, you see. It is our anniversary. So there he stood by the kitchen doorway, the widest grin on his handsome face and in his hands were the most gorgeous bouquet of red roses I had ever seen. Every flower had their place in this arrangement, not a single petal out of place.

He told me how beautiful I was in my new evening dress and I remember blushing and telling him to stop kidding himself but my smile only encouraged him to tell me so again. Well dinner was almost ready, so I had him prepare the arrangement on the dinner table while I gather our utensils. He insisted he’d finish preparing the casserole. At first, I argued but he won me over by grabbing the oven mitts before I could reach the drawer. So I grabbed the sides the Caesar salad and the roasted sweet potatoes from the counter and brought them to our dining area.

I put down the sides and finished the presentation when I realized he hadn’t followed me over. I called him over but no response. I made my way back to the kitchen to find myself in the predicament that you found me in. Dropped to the floor, held him against me, and grabbed the landline to call the emergency number. His breathing was shallow but looking around, the petals were either obscuring my vision or blending into the blood I had initially expected to exist.

So I sit here, waiting for the paramedics to come to our home as the man I fell in loved with lays in my arms and the voice of an anxious operator pouring into my ear. You could say that I should feel fearful yet I only feel numb. I should probably feel anxious that it’s taking an extra ten minutes but I only feel disappointed. He mostly took a sample of the casserole that we were meant to share together. But he should’ve waited, I wanted us to die together.