One short one before bed
H made a delicate fold to the rosy pink crepe paper, carefully so it won't crease. He's on the 31st, 968 more to go. He saw it somewhere on the web, that 999 roses stand for everlasting and eternal love. H wanted her to see his sincerity, he hoped that one day she would be touched.
H remembered how they met. He arrived at the dance studio on the first day of his co-curricular activity, and saw her shine among the other classmates. With his eyes helplessly glued to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, he began his journey. Dance has never been in his area of specialisation, but it's indeed his dream to become a dancer one day. She was there anyway, to cheer him on. He persevered.
One day she approached him, asking him to be part of her dance team. Was it because she saw his talent? Or that she just couldn't find anyone else to fill the numbers? It didn't matter. She'd noticed him, she'd appreciated him, she'd wanted him.
It was tough on H, for the other group members were either experienced or really gifted. He'd memorised the steps well and practised at home. Yet, it seemed that he's still unable to keep up with the rest. She'd placed her hand on his shoulders again. It was a touch of comfort. He smiled as she tried to teach him the right movements. It would mean that he's halfway there, wouldn't it?
Just a few more hours and he would be done with the roses. He'd heard from others that she loves rainbow colors. The bouquet of rainbow, he believed, would certainly please her. H continued folding. He'd lost count since a long time ago, and sometimes he was confused by the colors. His fingers were bruised, he lacked sleep and he started questioning himself if all these were worth his effort. But the future he painted in his head lies ahead. All these promises, although imaginary, gave him hope.
His friend chided him. They knew the girl would never love H back. But H was blinded by that false hope he held. He gritted his teeth as he went on with the 959th rose.
Then, the stalk snapped.
H remembered how they met. He arrived at the dance studio on the first day of his co-curricular activity, and saw her shine among the other classmates. With his eyes helplessly glued to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, he began his journey. Dance has never been in his area of specialisation, but it's indeed his dream to become a dancer one day. She was there anyway, to cheer him on. He persevered.
One day she approached him, asking him to be part of her dance team. Was it because she saw his talent? Or that she just couldn't find anyone else to fill the numbers? It didn't matter. She'd noticed him, she'd appreciated him, she'd wanted him.
It was tough on H, for the other group members were either experienced or really gifted. He'd memorised the steps well and practised at home. Yet, it seemed that he's still unable to keep up with the rest. She'd placed her hand on his shoulders again. It was a touch of comfort. He smiled as she tried to teach him the right movements. It would mean that he's halfway there, wouldn't it?
Just a few more hours and he would be done with the roses. He'd heard from others that she loves rainbow colors. The bouquet of rainbow, he believed, would certainly please her. H continued folding. He'd lost count since a long time ago, and sometimes he was confused by the colors. His fingers were bruised, he lacked sleep and he started questioning himself if all these were worth his effort. But the future he painted in his head lies ahead. All these promises, although imaginary, gave him hope.
His friend chided him. They knew the girl would never love H back. But H was blinded by that false hope he held. He gritted his teeth as he went on with the 959th rose.
Then, the stalk snapped.