surviving flower

The weekend had arrived. You and Felix went out every month to do cleanups. Your hobby was flowers and flowerbeds, because it calmed you down. Felix, however, couldn't sit still: he ran around the yard, picking up trash.

The kind grandmothers in the building adored you, because not every young couple would undertake to clean the yard. The neighbors helped, but rarely, and the children laughingly threw candy wrappers into your bags.

This Saturday was special. Incredible flowers bloomed in your favorite flowerbed. People took photos, admired them, and you were proud. Felix helped grow them, watering them day after day.

As you leaned toward the flower, a ball flew right in front of you, landing in the center of the flowerbed. A boy fell right after you, trampling everything. What had taken weeks to build was destroyed in seconds.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The boy carelessly shook himself off, and dirt fell on you. You fell to your knees by the broken flowerbed and closed your eyes.

At that very moment, you felt Felix's touch on your shoulder. And in his hand, you saw the surviving flower.

"It looks less crushed..." He handed it to you. "Let's plant some new ones? They'll grow even more beautiful, I promise..."

There was hope and tenderness in his voice, but something prevented him from saying a firm “yes.”