Roses
by CeciLy Santiago

The roses were beautiful. For months they stood proud on her dresser like a queen on her throne. When he gave them to her, they were buds, just getting ready to open. She placed them in a crystal vase with water.

Soon the buds bloomed. Every morning she marveled at their beauty, at how long they lasted and how sweet they smelled. Slowly, pictures of him began to surround the vase, and every morning she marveled at the beauty of his smile. It amazed her that he still smiled as sweetly as when the roses had bloomed. His smile was consistently loving in even the most recent pictures, just as her roses had not yet wilted. It struck her that these were magic roses and that as long as she kept them alive, he would love her.

When company came over, they would wrinkle their noses at the roses and look sadly at the pictures, but she knew that they were just jealous, for only she had such beautiful flowers and such a perfect love.

Then one day, after marveling at her roses, she didn't see him. All over she searched. When she finally found him, he wasn't alone. The other girl looked at her and smiled politely, holding his hand. How could this be? She had seen the roses alive, surrounded by the lovely pictures, just a few hours ago. She ran home, tears in her eyes.

When her sobs finally ceased, she raised her head to see that the roses were not alive and vibrant and no longer carried their sweet scent. Rather, they were dead and blackened and had the stench of rot. She rose and inspected her pictures. Just as she had known, he was smiling sweetly in the first pictures, but as she looked further his smile deteriorated until it was all but a frown. It was then that she knew that the roses were not magical. They had been wilting, dying, since the day she received them.