Dead Roses by Anastasia Ihnat’yeva

Mark first heard these voices two days ago.
He was working in the garden, pruning roses, as someone started calling him by name.
"Honey, is that you?"
There was no answer.
"Who's here?".
Silence. He went into the house, leaving the roses uncut.
***
“Did anyone call today?” Mark asked.
Pamela, his wife, was cooking dinner and the whole kitchen smelled of spices and fried meat. He felt unwell.
“No, darling, are you waiting for a call?”
"Maybe".
“Did you talk to Paul?”
“Nope”.
 “I saw his wife, Kelly said he would be fine soon. She has a good feeling.”
Mark just nodded. The smell in the kitchen and the hot air clung to his skin and he began to breathe heavily.
“Are you okay, darling?”.
“Yes ... um ... I'll go to the garden.”
He got up as soon as possible and ran away from the smells, heat, and his wife.
***
Hiding in a small barn where he kept garden supplies, Mark could breathe again. He left the door open and the wind kept shaking it to the beat of his breath. The creaking of wooden doors turned into screams. Shouts for help. Mark closed his ears and began to pray.
“I didn't want to ... I didn't want to ... I didn't want to ...”.
***
Kelly came on Saturday night. Her face was pale and her eyes red. She looked no better than Mark's withered roses.
“Oh, sit down and have some tea with me,” Pamela said.
“Thank you, I didn't eat anything in the morning. The doctors said they couldn't promise anything. If he doesn't come to his senses now, then ... I don't even want to think about it!”
“It's a terrible accident! Whoever it was, he must be punished.”
“I agree, and the police still can't find the culprit. There are no ...”
“Oh, dear, look who we have?”.
Pamela got up and approached Mark, who had just finished uprooting dead roses.
“Good evening, Kelly. You don't look very well.”
He remained standing.
“Hello, Mark. I can say the same about you.”
“Oh, it's all because of the roses! This year they've all dried up. Mark is worried. This is Paul's case, too.”
Mark cleared his throat.
“Yeah, I'm very…worried.”
“Thank you, Mark. I hope he comes to his senses soon.”
***
Mark had this dream again. He goes home from work; his wife calls him. All his thoughts are on the Hawaii vacation he deserved. He wants to turn on the music, but the button doesn't work. A sharp light blinds him and the car stops, hitting something heavy. The airbag deploys, Mark gets out of the car and can't believe his eyes. Opposite is a smashed car with a dead passenger calling for help. He can't look at it and leaves. Coming home, he goes through the garden and spits on the roses.
Mark woke up, looked at his wife next to him and felt asleep again.