Here's another one from college. The inspiration for this came when I was passing by a grave yard and I saw that every gravestone had a flower on it. I wondered what kind of a life one would have to have had for there to be no one to lay a flower on their grave.
Chaos Theory
"If the only home I hope for is the grave, if I spread out my bed in darkness, where then is my hope? Who can see any hope for me?" --Job 17: 13+15
Brian Bexton rode his bike around and around in an empty parking lot watching a summer sunset. He sometimes went there after work to think in solitude. Seeing the sun go down triggered the familiar sharp stings on the sides of his nose which he knew were the birth pains of tears. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt twin streaks upon his cheeks which were cooled by a coming breeze.
His chin quivered as he wondered why it's so hard to find friends. Though no one could hear him he said, "It's so easy to just pretend that you like someone when all you really want is to not be alone."
After it became dark, Brian biked home. When he arrived at his apartment, he found some pizza coupons in his mailbox and the red light on his phone machine was not blinking.
"Woohoo. Medium pizza blab de blah de blah. . .trash." He threw the coupons away in the plastic grocery bag he used as a garbage can and grabbed a soda from his unlit and barren refrigerator. The light bulb in his desk lamp didn't work so he lit some candles and put on some classical music.
Brian had an itch to write so he sat down and flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. After half an hour of staring at the blank page, he decided to look at some of his older writing. He read an old poem of his.
One And One
In some place outside my window
out my door and through these walls
Someone else is sad as I am
silently she sits alone
I wish I could comfort her and
tell her someone cares for her
Then both of us can cease our tears
and know we have someone to hold
Brian was amazed at how long ago he had written that poem, as well as at how little things had changed since then. A mosquito buzzed in his ear so he quickly sought refuge in the bathroom. He soon sat down on the toilet seat and fell asleep.
The next morning, he woke up with at least twelve mosquito bites. The candles on his desk had burned out. He finished the soda from the night before, which had gone flat. Then he prepared and ate a cup of noodles. It was time to bike to the hospital where he worked managing data.
His boss came into his work place to speak with him. "Good morning, Brian. I know that, despite your best efforts here, work has been piling up for you ever since your last co-worker quit. So, I've hired someone to help you with your data management. I'll leave you in charge of helping her along today. She'll be coming at ten so just get her started on something simple."
"Simple. Alright, sir."
Durova Wallace came in precisely at ten, which impressed Brian. "Hello, I'm Brian Bexton. I guess I'm in charge of showing you around."
"Durova. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. Um, basically we're in charge of keeping track of sick people."
"Sick people."
"Yeah, there's a lot of sick people out there. It's our job to organize the records of bad things that happen to them. For today, I'll start you on some filing. Do you go to the university?"
"Yes, I'm studying Astronomy."
"I'll bet you can't wait for summer to end so you can get back to your small angle calculations and spectroscopy. Me, I'm an English major."
"So you write?"
"I try. Have you had much chance to travel this summer?"
"Actually, I just moved back here after having spent a year studying in Okinawa. I went as a foreign exchange student and I just got back a couple weeks ago. I was lucky enough to get a job fairly quickly."
"Well, we're glad to have you on board. How was Japan? I hear they have some beautiful blossoms in spring."
"Yeah. I like the food and stuff, but it's good to be back in the States where cars are bigger than a breadbox."
The next day, Brian was glad to see Durova was already there when he went into work. "You're pretty good at keeping time, I've noticed."
"Thanks. They're pretty strict about stuff like that in Japan. I guess it's a habit I picked up over there."
Brian tried to come in a little earlier the next day, but still she was already there. "One of these days I'm going to come into the office before you do."
"Well, I hope you aren't allergic to silver."
"What does that mean?"
"When it comes to punctuality, I always get the gold."
"We'll just have to see about that."
Over the next several days, Brian and Durova enjoyed teasing each other about who didn't come to work first. By the time a few weeks had gone by, they had become quite well acquainted. They had come to appreciate one another's company. One day, though, she came in late.
"Uh oh, I smell silver."
"Whatever."
"I'm just messing around. Is there uh, is there something bothering you?"
"No, it's nothing."
"Wait, I think it's not nothing. Is something wrong?"
"Well, it's this place."
"The office?"
"No, no. It's everything." Durova blew some hair out of her eyes. "I used to consider this place to be my home, you know? But everything's different now. Being here is just not the same any more since I've been back."
"How do you mean?"
"I don't know. I guess there's no more meaning for me here. I used to enjoy it here, but it was never because of the place. It was the people and my interactions with people. But I've lost contact with my old friends and now it's just dead here. All I have are memories. There's no sense of being home."
"Well. . ."
"There's nothing to say. It's just empty here for me. There's nothing left of my old life anymore. The people are gone. Everything's gone. It scares me."
"It's OK to feel afraid. But don't let it get you down. It's not a bad thing to be scared. Most people aren't even honest enough to admit that they are. Just don't let your fears control you. You know, someone once said, 'Your happy days make you who you are when you're sad, and your sad days make you who you are when you're happy.'"
"Did this 'someone' happen to have a point?"
"Well, what he meant by that was that the things you learn when all's well will help you to better deal with life when times are bad. And the times when things are bad will help you to better appreciate life when all's well."
"I guess. Thanks, Brian."
"No problem. Besides, school's almost here again. You'll have plenty of things to keep you busy."
"Yeah, you're right."
Less than a week later, school started again and Brian found that their class schedules gave them different hours at work. They hardly saw each other anymore. Brian noticed that the quality of Durova's work began to slip. He didn't know how he could help her. He wanted at least to lift her spirits or encourage her in some way because he knew she was going through rough times.
One Friday night, he decided he wanted to write a poem to give her. The next morning, he biked to one of his favorite thinking spots so that he could set to writing. There was an old cemetery nearby in which he could get some privacy. The atmosphere of the place had helped him to write many a time in the past so he returned.
No dice. Brian could not think of one thing to write. He started to look around for anything that might stir something within him. He noticed that every grave had a bouquet of some sort that had been placed on it. His eye stopped on one of the headstones. He stood up and walked over to it. This grave had no flowers.
Alayna McKay
1976-1996
Embossed upon the headstone was a picture of a young lady. Seeing it, he recognized her as someone who had gone to his high school. He recalled that she had been a cheerleader. She'd had long red hair and green eyes, but the girl in the photograph had short black hair. His eyes lingered on the picture. She had a more dark and delicate grace about her which he found to be quite unlike the girl he remembered. He shrugged it off and went to sit under one of the large oak trees.
Lying back to look at clouds, Brian fell asleep. In his dreams he saw a female figure dressed in black, weeping in a corner. He cautiously approached and gently put his hand on her shoulder. She looked him in the eyes and said nothing.
"Alayna?"
"Why do you call me that?"
"Isn't that your name?"
"That's what my parents called me. Everyone else called me Bae."
"Bae?"
"Yes, that's a nickname my older sister gave me when I was young. I guess it was short for 'baby' or something."
"That's right. You were Mirabel's younger sister. She and I had a class together before she graduated. I never got a chance to meet you, but I saw you around. You hung out with a different crowd than I did. I think you may have known my brother. Kinda tall. . .football player. . ."
"You mean Chargood?"
"Yeah. My mom wanted to give me that name, but my dad had always wanted to name his first son after himself so I became Brian Bexton Jr. My mom got to name the next one so the poor kid got stuck being called Chargood Bexton." Alayna stopped sobbing, which eased Brian's concern.
"Are you alright?" he asked. Without answering, she just buried her head in his shoulder and he held her like that in his arms. "Shh, it's OK." He tried to sound comforting, but for the longest time, she just sat there sighing raggedly before anything else was said.
"It's so cold down here. All I see is blackness." This caught Brian off guard.
"Here. . .where?"
"Here, in the grave."
"But. . .how. . ."
"How did I die? I killed myself." Brian suddenly felt the coldness she'd spoken of. Again she started crying.
"Alayna. Bae. What happened? In high school you always seemed so happy. I thought you had it all."
"I had nothing. None of that meant anything to me. All anyone cared about was my looks and all I wanted was to feel important."
"So what happened?"
"After graduation, everyone moved away, promising to be 'friends forever'. Everything seemed perfect. I thought it would stay that way, but I was wrong. Nobody ever wrote to me or even bothered to drop a line. Even Mirabel moved away to pursue her education. She was always the smart one. I was the pretty one. All my old friends were too busy with their new lives. I stayed here and tried modeling, but I was always too short or too this or too that. That didn't work out."
"What did you do?"
"I started hanging out with some artsy, depressed, coffee-drinking poetry people. I thought I could relate better with them. I cut my hair, dyed it black and started wearing lots of black. Turns out, all those people ever cared about was themselves if anything at all."
"I know the type."
"Yeah, well, I found that all I wanted to do was sleep. Whenever I was awake, I was depressed so I started to take sleeping pills. I ate very little and lost a lot of weight. I got so addicted to those pills that I ate more of them than I did food. One night, I decided to take a week's worth. I knew what it would do to me, I just didn't care anymore."
"You must have felt so alone. I know how it feels like to be alone. I hate it. I must be the loneliest person that I know."
"It's easy to be the loneliest person you know when you only know yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you're only a hypochondriac if you think you are. Do you ever leave your house? Do you ever interact with other people in a social setting?"
"I go to work."
"I'm not talking about work or even school. What do you do for fun?"
"I write."
"Oh yeah? What's the last thing you wrote?"
"Um. It was, uh."
"You don't remember. You can't write about anything if you never do anything. You have writer's block because you're in a bubble that doesn't include other people. I bet every day's the same old routine for you isn't it?"
"Well. Yeah."
"I used to think the way you do. I thought I was the loneliest person alive. I found out that death is far worse. Life for me was empty so I took the easy way out. What I didn't know was that in the grave, there's nothing to look forward to."
"I don't have much to look forward to."
"You have the rest of your life."
"But so much is uncertain."
"Of course it is. In life everything is uncertain. That's the thrill of living. You never know what will happen next. Here, in the grave, nothing ever changes. There's no hope for love. There's no hope for anything."
"I don't have anyone to love."
"But you could, that's the point. I can't."
"I feel sorry for you. I wish there was something I could do for you. You seem so sad."
"I'm sad because there is not hope for me. You have hope."
"No, I don't."
"Sure you do, Brian. You just said you'd like to do something for me. No one has ever cared before about whether or not I was happy." Brian's eyes welled up.
"You see? Your hope lies in the fact that you can make a difference in someone else's life."
"I've never had hope before."
"It has always been hiding behind your fears. You will make someone very happy one of these days."
"How? I don't even know how to cheer you up."
"Well, you see my headstone?"
"The unflowered grave?"
"I would be forever grateful if you would put some flowers there for me."
"Flowers? Sure. What kind?"
"I've always liked yellow lilies."
"You got it."
"You know, you've given me something to look forward to. I've never had that before. No one ever really cared about me like that before."
"I guess there's hope for me after all."
Brian finally knew what he wanted to write about. With a tear in his eye, he hugged Alayna goodbye and then he woke up. It was early in the morning and the sun was just beginning to rise. It was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. Feeling inspired, he wrote in his notebook.
After writing down his thoughts, Brian got up and went to buy some flowers to lay on Alayna's grave. The following Monday, he went to the hospital after class to see if Durova might be working. She was there, and quite surprised to see him.
"You know, it's funny, Brian. You're the second person I've bumped into today that I haven't seen in a while. Earlier today, I ran into an old friend of mine and we ended up having lunch together. She talked about something called the chaos theory. She told me that a butterfly in Japan could start a hurricane here. Isn't that weird?"
"Did you do anything different today?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, all you have to do is deviate slightly from your normal routine and you'll see people you don't usually see. Did you change anything today?"
"I didn't go my usual route to the Astro lab. I cut through the Science building. That's when I saw her."
"That's all it takes. You see, as we move along in life, we lose touch with old friends because our circles revolve around the accumulation of choices we've made. Our choices dictate our spheres, but sometimes we just get into a rut in which it seems there is no hope for change. All we need to do is change one small thing. Even that can give us something to look forward to. I mean, usually I go straight home after class, but today, I came here instead because I wanted to see you and give you this." Brian showed Durova the poem he had written."
Hope
A tree
long thought gone
shoots
The sun
long thought lost
rises
Not forever really dead
Not to never rise again
I know
A flower
long thought gone
blooms
A love
long thought lost
is there
Not to ever wilt away
Not to see its dying day
I know
When she had read it, a tear came to her eye. "That's some rut I've been in."
"Yes, but that can change. It's not impossible for a butterfly from Japan to cause a hurricane here." As he said this, he put his hand over his heart to make a point. Durova just sat there thinking about what Brian had said. She smile despite her watery eyes.
"That was really corny," she said, still smiling.
"Well, it worked." Brian offered her a shoulder to cry on, which she gladly took. They embraced for several seconds. "You know, I was thinking you and I should go have a nice sushi dinner some time. That is, of course, if you like sushi."
Durova couldn't help but laugh through her tears. "I love it."
Brian smiled. "Somehow I thought you might. I do too, very much."
Chaos Theory
"If the only home I hope for is the grave, if I spread out my bed in darkness, where then is my hope? Who can see any hope for me?" --Job 17: 13+15
Brian Bexton rode his bike around and around in an empty parking lot watching a summer sunset. He sometimes went there after work to think in solitude. Seeing the sun go down triggered the familiar sharp stings on the sides of his nose which he knew were the birth pains of tears. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt twin streaks upon his cheeks which were cooled by a coming breeze.
His chin quivered as he wondered why it's so hard to find friends. Though no one could hear him he said, "It's so easy to just pretend that you like someone when all you really want is to not be alone."
After it became dark, Brian biked home. When he arrived at his apartment, he found some pizza coupons in his mailbox and the red light on his phone machine was not blinking.
"Woohoo. Medium pizza blab de blah de blah. . .trash." He threw the coupons away in the plastic grocery bag he used as a garbage can and grabbed a soda from his unlit and barren refrigerator. The light bulb in his desk lamp didn't work so he lit some candles and put on some classical music.
Brian had an itch to write so he sat down and flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. After half an hour of staring at the blank page, he decided to look at some of his older writing. He read an old poem of his.
One And One
In some place outside my window
out my door and through these walls
Someone else is sad as I am
silently she sits alone
I wish I could comfort her and
tell her someone cares for her
Then both of us can cease our tears
and know we have someone to hold
Brian was amazed at how long ago he had written that poem, as well as at how little things had changed since then. A mosquito buzzed in his ear so he quickly sought refuge in the bathroom. He soon sat down on the toilet seat and fell asleep.
The next morning, he woke up with at least twelve mosquito bites. The candles on his desk had burned out. He finished the soda from the night before, which had gone flat. Then he prepared and ate a cup of noodles. It was time to bike to the hospital where he worked managing data.
His boss came into his work place to speak with him. "Good morning, Brian. I know that, despite your best efforts here, work has been piling up for you ever since your last co-worker quit. So, I've hired someone to help you with your data management. I'll leave you in charge of helping her along today. She'll be coming at ten so just get her started on something simple."
"Simple. Alright, sir."
Durova Wallace came in precisely at ten, which impressed Brian. "Hello, I'm Brian Bexton. I guess I'm in charge of showing you around."
"Durova. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. Um, basically we're in charge of keeping track of sick people."
"Sick people."
"Yeah, there's a lot of sick people out there. It's our job to organize the records of bad things that happen to them. For today, I'll start you on some filing. Do you go to the university?"
"Yes, I'm studying Astronomy."
"I'll bet you can't wait for summer to end so you can get back to your small angle calculations and spectroscopy. Me, I'm an English major."
"So you write?"
"I try. Have you had much chance to travel this summer?"
"Actually, I just moved back here after having spent a year studying in Okinawa. I went as a foreign exchange student and I just got back a couple weeks ago. I was lucky enough to get a job fairly quickly."
"Well, we're glad to have you on board. How was Japan? I hear they have some beautiful blossoms in spring."
"Yeah. I like the food and stuff, but it's good to be back in the States where cars are bigger than a breadbox."
The next day, Brian was glad to see Durova was already there when he went into work. "You're pretty good at keeping time, I've noticed."
"Thanks. They're pretty strict about stuff like that in Japan. I guess it's a habit I picked up over there."
Brian tried to come in a little earlier the next day, but still she was already there. "One of these days I'm going to come into the office before you do."
"Well, I hope you aren't allergic to silver."
"What does that mean?"
"When it comes to punctuality, I always get the gold."
"We'll just have to see about that."
Over the next several days, Brian and Durova enjoyed teasing each other about who didn't come to work first. By the time a few weeks had gone by, they had become quite well acquainted. They had come to appreciate one another's company. One day, though, she came in late.
"Uh oh, I smell silver."
"Whatever."
"I'm just messing around. Is there uh, is there something bothering you?"
"No, it's nothing."
"Wait, I think it's not nothing. Is something wrong?"
"Well, it's this place."
"The office?"
"No, no. It's everything." Durova blew some hair out of her eyes. "I used to consider this place to be my home, you know? But everything's different now. Being here is just not the same any more since I've been back."
"How do you mean?"
"I don't know. I guess there's no more meaning for me here. I used to enjoy it here, but it was never because of the place. It was the people and my interactions with people. But I've lost contact with my old friends and now it's just dead here. All I have are memories. There's no sense of being home."
"Well. . ."
"There's nothing to say. It's just empty here for me. There's nothing left of my old life anymore. The people are gone. Everything's gone. It scares me."
"It's OK to feel afraid. But don't let it get you down. It's not a bad thing to be scared. Most people aren't even honest enough to admit that they are. Just don't let your fears control you. You know, someone once said, 'Your happy days make you who you are when you're sad, and your sad days make you who you are when you're happy.'"
"Did this 'someone' happen to have a point?"
"Well, what he meant by that was that the things you learn when all's well will help you to better deal with life when times are bad. And the times when things are bad will help you to better appreciate life when all's well."
"I guess. Thanks, Brian."
"No problem. Besides, school's almost here again. You'll have plenty of things to keep you busy."
"Yeah, you're right."
Less than a week later, school started again and Brian found that their class schedules gave them different hours at work. They hardly saw each other anymore. Brian noticed that the quality of Durova's work began to slip. He didn't know how he could help her. He wanted at least to lift her spirits or encourage her in some way because he knew she was going through rough times.
One Friday night, he decided he wanted to write a poem to give her. The next morning, he biked to one of his favorite thinking spots so that he could set to writing. There was an old cemetery nearby in which he could get some privacy. The atmosphere of the place had helped him to write many a time in the past so he returned.
No dice. Brian could not think of one thing to write. He started to look around for anything that might stir something within him. He noticed that every grave had a bouquet of some sort that had been placed on it. His eye stopped on one of the headstones. He stood up and walked over to it. This grave had no flowers.
Alayna McKay
1976-1996
Embossed upon the headstone was a picture of a young lady. Seeing it, he recognized her as someone who had gone to his high school. He recalled that she had been a cheerleader. She'd had long red hair and green eyes, but the girl in the photograph had short black hair. His eyes lingered on the picture. She had a more dark and delicate grace about her which he found to be quite unlike the girl he remembered. He shrugged it off and went to sit under one of the large oak trees.
Lying back to look at clouds, Brian fell asleep. In his dreams he saw a female figure dressed in black, weeping in a corner. He cautiously approached and gently put his hand on her shoulder. She looked him in the eyes and said nothing.
"Alayna?"
"Why do you call me that?"
"Isn't that your name?"
"That's what my parents called me. Everyone else called me Bae."
"Bae?"
"Yes, that's a nickname my older sister gave me when I was young. I guess it was short for 'baby' or something."
"That's right. You were Mirabel's younger sister. She and I had a class together before she graduated. I never got a chance to meet you, but I saw you around. You hung out with a different crowd than I did. I think you may have known my brother. Kinda tall. . .football player. . ."
"You mean Chargood?"
"Yeah. My mom wanted to give me that name, but my dad had always wanted to name his first son after himself so I became Brian Bexton Jr. My mom got to name the next one so the poor kid got stuck being called Chargood Bexton." Alayna stopped sobbing, which eased Brian's concern.
"Are you alright?" he asked. Without answering, she just buried her head in his shoulder and he held her like that in his arms. "Shh, it's OK." He tried to sound comforting, but for the longest time, she just sat there sighing raggedly before anything else was said.
"It's so cold down here. All I see is blackness." This caught Brian off guard.
"Here. . .where?"
"Here, in the grave."
"But. . .how. . ."
"How did I die? I killed myself." Brian suddenly felt the coldness she'd spoken of. Again she started crying.
"Alayna. Bae. What happened? In high school you always seemed so happy. I thought you had it all."
"I had nothing. None of that meant anything to me. All anyone cared about was my looks and all I wanted was to feel important."
"So what happened?"
"After graduation, everyone moved away, promising to be 'friends forever'. Everything seemed perfect. I thought it would stay that way, but I was wrong. Nobody ever wrote to me or even bothered to drop a line. Even Mirabel moved away to pursue her education. She was always the smart one. I was the pretty one. All my old friends were too busy with their new lives. I stayed here and tried modeling, but I was always too short or too this or too that. That didn't work out."
"What did you do?"
"I started hanging out with some artsy, depressed, coffee-drinking poetry people. I thought I could relate better with them. I cut my hair, dyed it black and started wearing lots of black. Turns out, all those people ever cared about was themselves if anything at all."
"I know the type."
"Yeah, well, I found that all I wanted to do was sleep. Whenever I was awake, I was depressed so I started to take sleeping pills. I ate very little and lost a lot of weight. I got so addicted to those pills that I ate more of them than I did food. One night, I decided to take a week's worth. I knew what it would do to me, I just didn't care anymore."
"You must have felt so alone. I know how it feels like to be alone. I hate it. I must be the loneliest person that I know."
"It's easy to be the loneliest person you know when you only know yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you're only a hypochondriac if you think you are. Do you ever leave your house? Do you ever interact with other people in a social setting?"
"I go to work."
"I'm not talking about work or even school. What do you do for fun?"
"I write."
"Oh yeah? What's the last thing you wrote?"
"Um. It was, uh."
"You don't remember. You can't write about anything if you never do anything. You have writer's block because you're in a bubble that doesn't include other people. I bet every day's the same old routine for you isn't it?"
"Well. Yeah."
"I used to think the way you do. I thought I was the loneliest person alive. I found out that death is far worse. Life for me was empty so I took the easy way out. What I didn't know was that in the grave, there's nothing to look forward to."
"I don't have much to look forward to."
"You have the rest of your life."
"But so much is uncertain."
"Of course it is. In life everything is uncertain. That's the thrill of living. You never know what will happen next. Here, in the grave, nothing ever changes. There's no hope for love. There's no hope for anything."
"I don't have anyone to love."
"But you could, that's the point. I can't."
"I feel sorry for you. I wish there was something I could do for you. You seem so sad."
"I'm sad because there is not hope for me. You have hope."
"No, I don't."
"Sure you do, Brian. You just said you'd like to do something for me. No one has ever cared before about whether or not I was happy." Brian's eyes welled up.
"You see? Your hope lies in the fact that you can make a difference in someone else's life."
"I've never had hope before."
"It has always been hiding behind your fears. You will make someone very happy one of these days."
"How? I don't even know how to cheer you up."
"Well, you see my headstone?"
"The unflowered grave?"
"I would be forever grateful if you would put some flowers there for me."
"Flowers? Sure. What kind?"
"I've always liked yellow lilies."
"You got it."
"You know, you've given me something to look forward to. I've never had that before. No one ever really cared about me like that before."
"I guess there's hope for me after all."
Brian finally knew what he wanted to write about. With a tear in his eye, he hugged Alayna goodbye and then he woke up. It was early in the morning and the sun was just beginning to rise. It was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. Feeling inspired, he wrote in his notebook.
After writing down his thoughts, Brian got up and went to buy some flowers to lay on Alayna's grave. The following Monday, he went to the hospital after class to see if Durova might be working. She was there, and quite surprised to see him.
"You know, it's funny, Brian. You're the second person I've bumped into today that I haven't seen in a while. Earlier today, I ran into an old friend of mine and we ended up having lunch together. She talked about something called the chaos theory. She told me that a butterfly in Japan could start a hurricane here. Isn't that weird?"
"Did you do anything different today?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, all you have to do is deviate slightly from your normal routine and you'll see people you don't usually see. Did you change anything today?"
"I didn't go my usual route to the Astro lab. I cut through the Science building. That's when I saw her."
"That's all it takes. You see, as we move along in life, we lose touch with old friends because our circles revolve around the accumulation of choices we've made. Our choices dictate our spheres, but sometimes we just get into a rut in which it seems there is no hope for change. All we need to do is change one small thing. Even that can give us something to look forward to. I mean, usually I go straight home after class, but today, I came here instead because I wanted to see you and give you this." Brian showed Durova the poem he had written."
Hope
A tree
long thought gone
shoots
The sun
long thought lost
rises
Not forever really dead
Not to never rise again
I know
A flower
long thought gone
blooms
A love
long thought lost
is there
Not to ever wilt away
Not to see its dying day
I know
When she had read it, a tear came to her eye. "That's some rut I've been in."
"Yes, but that can change. It's not impossible for a butterfly from Japan to cause a hurricane here." As he said this, he put his hand over his heart to make a point. Durova just sat there thinking about what Brian had said. She smile despite her watery eyes.
"That was really corny," she said, still smiling.
"Well, it worked." Brian offered her a shoulder to cry on, which she gladly took. They embraced for several seconds. "You know, I was thinking you and I should go have a nice sushi dinner some time. That is, of course, if you like sushi."
Durova couldn't help but laugh through her tears. "I love it."
Brian smiled. "Somehow I thought you might. I do too, very much."
No comments:
Post a Comment