By Emily Chudzik
I sat at the bench beneath my bedroom window, watching him. He was standing on the freshly cut lawn in his only suit holding some flowers from his mother’s garden, dirt clumps still clinging to the bottom. It wasn’t the most conventional bouquet, but we weren’t the most conventional couple. He looked up at the grand oak tree, no doubt wondering if he could scale it without dropping the peace offering. This was our third ‘break-up’ this month, but an extravagant gesture always seemed to work on me. I knew before he started climbing that I was going to forgive him.
Very sweet.