Wildflowers
I slip on my shoes and take a quick look in the mirror before following him down the hallway. In my kitchen, he turns and pivots on his toes. He hands me a small bouquet of wildflowers tied with a ribbon. Every other time he’s given me flowers, it was in a large fancy vase. Flowers worthy of an Instagram post that all of my friends would be envious of.
His thumb pulsates on his leg. “These were all the wildflowers I saw on my way home from work today.”
I tilt the mixture of flowers around; bluebonnets, Queen Anne’s lace, violets, and buttercups. A tear sneaks out from my eye, and I swipe at it. This tiny simple bouquet defines so much about our relationship then and now. Before, it was large, manufactured, and on display. Now it’s small and simple—tiny bits of beauty trying to grow between strips of concrete.
“I love it,” I whisper as my throat tightens. I grab a small glass and fill it with water, removing the ribbon and placing the wildflowers inside. I retie the ribbon to the outside of the glass. We both tilt our heads and admire the simple beauty of it. His hand brushes against mine, his pinky trailing a path down the side of mine. A yearning deep inside me wants his hand on mine, but there’s also fear. I don’t want him to hurt me again.
Keep your eyes peeled for 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘞𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘥 coming soon!
