Red Roses by Anna Liudva

He hated roses.
Something about that red colour that reminded him of blood; or maybe it is these invisible sticks, that can hurt you no matter with how many efforts you try to hold a flower. He comforted himself with these thoughts. He didn’t want to remind himself about the truth – he could
tolerate neither smell nor the look of these flowers.
As he was thinking about it while he was walking in the city, he appeared to be in a small shop. There
was so little space, that he almost bumped into a consultant when he walked in. “I’m so-so sorry”, –
he said, stuttering. “Oh, don’t worry, you are not the first one! I have used to it, – the woman replied
with a gentle smile. – It’s not your fault. Please, look for anything you would like to buy. I will be
near you – just call me if you need any advice”, – she added and walked towards a mini-shelf that
might be a cash register.
He was standing without moving. He froze after the woman left. The smell could not let him go. This
awful scent of the woman that he could not stand. It was so strong and intense as if he was standing
in the garden full of roses. The tears of anger filled his eyes. The woman did not see them; he has
already left the shop.
He managed to calm down considering the image of the roses followed him. When he came home,
he looked annoyed and sad. “Don’t tell me you cried over the roses again”, – he heard the
disappointed voice of his brother. “No”, – was all he could say at the moment. “Listen, I see your red
eyes and your mood. You cannot fool me, – his brother said with more calmness. – But you cannot
live like this too. It’s been 10 years. Do you understand that this is not life? You cannot avoid bloody
flowers every time you in the city! Stop torture yourself and let her go! It’s neither your, nor her fault.
Please remember that. Hey, are you listening to me? Of course not, you think I make no sense”, – the
man walked out of the room swearing to himself.
His brother was right. He will not forget. He will not forget her big love for the roses and her every room of the house filled with them. He gifted her bouquets on all occasions, even not important ones.
Whenever he hugged her, the woman’s body smelled like flowers, as if she took a bath of them. He  drowned in this smell and in her too. The overwhelming feeling never left him until one moment. The
moment that flipped over all his feelings.
He saw her on the road. She was smelling the bouquet as always. She was shining and glowing. Her
light blond hair covered all her face, but from her posture, he knew it was her. The roses took all of her attention. She did not notice the car that was riding in her way on full speed. She did not hear him screaming his lungs out because it was too far away. The last thing that she saw was the bouquet of roses. When he reached her, he only saw her dead body and the little smile on her face that has already faded away. The roses were in her hands, and not a single one of them was ruined.
He hated the roses so much.