He remembered that day like a sun spot burned into his retina. Like the phantom sensation of a missing limb. Like the roar of a waterfall, fading in the distance.
Some strange force had drawn them together. Friends, then lovers, gleefully bound by the thread of fate they each tied in turn around the other, like a noose.
His grip on the bouquet tightened like a vice as his mind flooded with memories, both challenging and bittersweet.
Summer nights spent on the hood of his car, holding hands and watching the stars.
Winter storms spent wrapped around each other, quivering lips striking sparks in the cold air on each meeting.
A single tear traces its painful path down his cheek as he recalls the time spent fighting her fate.
Sunlight lazily drifting through blinds like the air from her lungs.
The labored rise and fall of her chest.
Her glossy doll eyes blurring the clinical white walls.
Television offering up little more than a cynical drone to relieve the weight in the air of that stuffy room.
More tears follow the first, making tracks on the man’s face.
A single memory surges through his consciousness.
A wild, untamed blaze, setting his eyes alight with fresh tears.
He opens the blinds, letting the light of the rising sun through.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” She says, a weak smile spreading across her pale face.
Kneeling down, he leans the roses against her grave, giving her an answer.
“Yes. Yes you are.”