By Jeanne Althouse
He brought Clare daisies, carried them, stems gripped in long brown fingers, into her hospital room, wearing his lifeguard shorts and the red cap to hide thinning hair. In Persia he was a Prince before they took his father’s properties. At the exercise pool, he jumped in to rescue an old man, pulled him out, but the man died anyway. Afterwards he was quiet for months. When he offered the flowers, Clare regretted asking him to depart, ashamed of her uncombed hair, her wrinkled hospital gown. Without a vase for water, the flowers dried on the window-ledge. She has them still.
Touching, bitter-sweet story. Nice job.
Thanks. I have been enjoying your work.
Lovely story.
You are the King of love stories, Tony.
I really like the imagery here. Nice job!
Packed a lot of emotion in 102 words.