"I'm Sorry"

It sits on my desk—the single red rose in its simple, glass vase—mocking me with its wilt. It’s salt in the fresh wound—the note like a second blade, making the cut deeper. I’m sorry. Two simple words that should patch everything up, but the drooping rose tells the truth.

~

Dustin gave me roses on Valentine’s Day.

“I hate roses!” I laughed. “They shout, ‘LOVE!’ and never last. Carnations are better. They say ‘friendship’ and hang around for a while.”

“Don’t worry, Kris. I’ll hang around,” he lied.

~

He isn’t sorry. The rose says it all.

#shortstory