Nostalgia
October 9, 2002
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Homework
Stan was walking home from Annie's house on that Friday eve. He was passing through the neighbors garden, as he did so frequently, when he noticed the smell of the roses. He thought it odd that they were so very fragrant at this time of year, seeing as how ice had covered almost every surface in the area already that night.
He detoured his path to walk among the still-blooming blossoms. He was shocked at the variety of colors and shapes before him. Stan bent down to one knee and plucked one delicate flower away from it's family. Away from it's family.
Stan leaned back and breathed the heady incense of the bloom. His thoughts wandered back to an earlier time. He thought about Annie and all she had been born to. He thought about the day she came to him, the day that he fell in love with her. The day he plucked her away from her family.
He had been working as a clerk at the college when she breezed into the room and stole his heart away. She had asked him something but for the life of him he couldn't remember what it was. All he could see was her beauty, her charm, her. . . . His thoughts veered away from the subsequent images.
He had visited her that Friday eve in hopes that she could forgive him his wrongs. He hoped that she would take him back into her life again. He had hoped that she would at least speak kindly to him. But none of these things did she do, she threw him off her doorstep with a viscous look and a stream of invectives. She thought him too old, he was pushing forty after all.
He sat and looked at the one little bloom for a very long time. He sat there until the snow started to fall. Then he stood up, and walked through his neighbor's garden, as he did so frequently, on his way home.
NOTE: This was an assignment for my CCV Creative Writing II online class with William Noble.
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