Many a Night Has Passed

(I haven't posted for a while, so I thought I'd post something that I wrote last week. I've been experimenting a little with irony. Hope you like it! Oh, and the spacing on my computer is still messed up. :/ -Jane)

The dead, decaying rose leaned helplessly on a glass vase on the kitchen table. Michelle felt a little nauseous – but glad the colors were finally fading from the delicate petals.

This calm Sunday afternoon, rays of sun that usually hid behind maple trees shown on the vase. Light was absorbed through the glass and a rainbow of multi-colored hues hurt Michelle’s eyes.

The flower looked so perfect, even in the remaining hours before its death. It reminded Michelle of Beauty and the Beast; the rose that was still beautiful after withering away.

Michelle scowled, her upper lip curled in disgust. Her breathing grew rapid, rouge flooded her cheeks, and her eyebrows knit together.

She couldn’t describe the next few moments. Overcome by emotions, her shaking hands grabbed the vase and threw it against the tile floor.

Shards shattered and flew towards the ceiling, and sharp glass hit the table, refrigerator, and a dilapidated kitchen cupboard. Water splashed and flew out of its restraints, coating the sticky tile. Last, the crippled rose, like a wounded soldier who knew his fate, landed in the pile of chaos, surrounded by what had been keeping it alive for two weeks. The rose didn’t even fight, it just died. Dead.

Michelle sunk to her knees and finally accepted the grief that had been hiding behind the protected walls of her soul. Salty tears trickled from her eyes and slid slowly down her face, whose pallor was now a ghostly white.

A beige card, which appeared to be shoved into the bottom of the bouquet, fluttered from its former place to the ground. Michelle looked from her wailing and picked the paper up before it landed on the ruined floor.

Surrounded by a border of black swirls and little depictions of different flowers was a paragraph written in old-fashioned, French Script font:

My Dear Michelle,

I will be leaving Baghdad in two weeks and five days. It seems like I’ve been counting for so long. Many a night has passed and I’ve thought about you through it all. Thank god my service is almost over because our wedding will come soon enough. Be patient, my love.

My lieutenant helped me send you these roses; he has connections. I sure hope you get them somehow

I can’t wait to have you back in my arms.

With love,

Dan