Short story: Waiting.

The girl walked slowly, surveying the greenery that lay before her. She loved this place, and came there whenever possible. The quiet rustles of the leaves, the still water of the lake, and the peaceful scene always calmed her. The few clouds rolled slowly overhead, and the slightly wind brought no chill. The lake reflected her face as she gazed at it, and her slow smile gleamed in her eyes. She was a pretty girl. Brown, neck length hair that fell down behind her head, green eyes with flecks of brown that twinkled with delight, and a mouth that looked ready to break out into a cheerful smile. She was nearly twenty, and lived alone. She didn’t talk much with her parents, but her younger sister visited often. A year had passed since the girl had finished university, but she still didn’t have a job, from lack of searching probably. The garden was her escape from the worlds hassles; a haven away from humanities hubbub. No one ever came here, but why she couldn’t fathom. The quiet garden was situated next to a cemetery. Maybe that had something to do with it. For her, it was one more reason to go. It made her journeys shorter, and gave her somewhere nice to think. The serenity of the place made her troubles seem trivial, unimportant matters. Here, the only worries were if it would rain soon. She smiled gently. The park bench took her wait without a sound, and she leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing the fragrance of the hundred flowers wash over her. She felt in her pocket for the note she had left in it earlier that day, the small piece of paper with the message she had written 12 times now upon it. But she had left that where it belonged. Inwardly sighing, the woman rose from the chair and left behind the gardens peace.

In the cemetery, a tombstone stood, flanked by others, silently proclaiming the life of its caskets occupant, a once young man, now a body. The date on the tombstone showed the mans death to be 12 months ago. A piece of paper, seemingly discarded, lay in front of the tombstone. Wind lifted it slightly, attempting to lift the page away from its place. But t remained, and the wind subsided. On the page, flowery handwriting proclaimed a message, one that had been left there 12 times now. And in a place no living person could reach, a young man awaiting his love smiled, and gave her thanks.

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