She loved him and never recovered. He came for a season and left when the day becomes warmer. And she ate ice-cream under the sun alone, while staring at smaller kids on bikes. She’s on a hand-me-down swimming suit, red and white, striped. She stared at the small vase in front of Mrs Fisher’s yard, and thought it was him, but it’s just Baby’s Breath. They looked similar but she recognised him by heart. And the day became so white and chilly. She still waited for him. Every sled trips, every snowball fights, she thought of him. Until the eve of red and green, until she was asleep. That morning, she unwrapped the boxes, hoping to see him. But she was wrong. He wasn’t there. “Probably, not yet”, she said to herself.
And all the leaves turned golden, the floor was brown and gold. The smell of pumpkin spice latte filled the air. But still, no signs of him. Mrs Fisher’s Baby’s Breath was still steady in the small pot in front of the azure window. She greets her once in a while. She waited patiently.
Then, the white ground slowly disappeared. Many of his friends-she could spot them emerging from beneath the floor. There were Peach Blossom, Apple Blossom, Brodea and Corn Flower. And there he was, smiling.