Dying Love

Okay guys, tear it apart! Enjoy!

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Whether it was from the warm, purple twilight, the sweet smell of roses, or the sounds of the little, brown finches fluttering around on the wood beneath her, Stella wasn’t sure. All she knew was that her heart was pounding, her stomach was fluttering, just like the finches, and her lips couldn’t turn up any further. She replayed the memories in her mind from moments before, continuously. His dark, blue eyes staring into hers, the nervous chuckle he gave as he wobbled down to one knee, and his hands shaking as though there was an earthquake. Timothy had been her best friend since she could remember. He grew from the annoying boy that strutted around, trying desperately to get her attention, to the caring, young man who was always there when she needed him, to now a grown man who loved her more than she thought she deserved.

Stella jolted herself from her porch swing; just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She leisurely headed to her bedroom, humming the song that she and Timothy had danced to at their first prom. As she sat on the edge of her bed, gazing at her extraordinarily beautiful ring, Timothy was humming the same song, as he strolled along the lamp lit streets, soaking in the moonlight.

He had a bounce in his step, a tune in his heart, and a beautiful fiance that he was sure he didn’t deserve. His hands were still shaking, just as much as they were when he awkwardly stumbled to one knee. He was the luckiest man in the world, and he knew it. Stella wasn’t only beautiful, she was kind, loving, forgiving, caring, and most of all his best friend.

Calling a cab seemed only too easy. As he slid into the back seat, his ears hallowed in on the locking doors, his heart gave a sudden leap, and not due to the thought of his beloved. The driver turned around in his seat, letting Timothy soak in the black, ski mask and the gun a few inches away.

“Please!” Timothy yelled. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Shut up!” The criminal yelled. “Just-Just give me your money!”

Timothy searched his pockets. Nothing. He scanned his mind, thinking of a way-anyway-he could survive this.

“Now!” The other one shouted.

“I-I don’t have anything. I promise. Search me!”

“Liar!”

“No! Please!”

Timothy stripped off his denim jacket, unbuckled his gold watch, and pulled off his shoes. The driver seemed to be satisfied with these items, and the second Timothy heard the doors unlock, he jumped from the already moving cab, onto the black pavement. He glanced around nervously, until he saw a phone booth on the corner. He began running as fast as he could, thinking only of Stella. As he reached the booth, the smell of burning rubber and the screeching of grinding tires, raced toward him. BANG. He stood there, dazed a moment, not feeling this much pain in his life. The pain of not knowing if he’ll see her again.

Stella rested her head peacefully against her cold pillow, thinking of her best friend. How in the morning, she would be calling everyone one of her family members, and spending every waking moment with the man that would forever treasure her. And as she fell in and out of unconsciousness, she kept their song playing through her head, as her body finally allowed her sleep.