By C. E. Stokes
The whisper of falling snow broke the silence of the night. The street light did little to ward off the cold.
Amy said she’d be there. The most beautiful girl in school and she agreed to meet him. Rick huddled into his thin coat, his bare hand clutching the drooping red flower.
A car passed and gray slush rose up in a wave. Rick fell back on his butt in a snow drift. He climbed to his feet and wiped at the wetness on his coat.
Even though she was late, he wanted to look his best when she finally arrived.
The last sentence was very good–delivered a real emotional kick–there’s no end to the painful scenarios it hints at. I did think the imagery of “bare hand clutching the drooping red flower” was maybe a little too much, could have been dialed back a bit, in keeping with the overall feel of a good story. (it must’ve been good–I’m worried Rick’s still out there!)
Thanks so much for commenting! I’m glad the ending worked. I never realized how challenging it was to tell a tale in so few words.
Aww, I can see the little guy and his rose. Sweet and sad, in so few words. Nice…