Photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
He’d always forget the flowers.
Birthdays. Anniversaries. Valentine’s Day. Births of children.
It’s not that he didn’t love her. She knew he did. He showed it in how he always cleared ice off her wind-shield. In how he took the garbage out and did dishes she’d left in the sink for the morning. In how he put the toilet paper ‘over’ even though he preferred it ‘under.’
But he always forgot the flowers.
The day of the biopsy results he came home with a gilded bouquet.
“These won’t wilt,” he said. “You’ll see them and not forget me.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers