Remembered the roses

-“What’s your favourite story in our prose book?”

-“Remember the roses, by Avery Taylor.”

That story was not a part of our syllabus but the sweetness with which he uttered it’s title, aroused a “brow arching” curiosity in my mind.
I went back home, left no stones unturned to avoid an unnecessary round of questions from my parents,  headed straight towards my room and kept on flipping the pages of the book until I found the right one; I was startled to find two roses stuffed in there! I couldn’t read the story and it has remained untouched since then.

I stopped seeing him after that; I wish I had not tried to find the answers to some questions that were lingering inside my head, a demise blends “forever” with “never” in a tricky way, that makes denial more consoling as compared to acceptance and at one point we are left with no choice other than succumbing to the situation.
He left behind a memory that haunts me even after years and it grieves a lot to say, “Yes, I remembered the roses…”

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