Part 15 (2/2)
”They're so pretty,” she told him, staring down at the lilies. ”You'll let me keep these; just this once?”
”Throw them away,” he repeated. ”I can't stand the sight of them. You know that. Why must you go on picking the things and picking them?”
She shrugged her shoulders. Her eyes left his face.
”I love them,” she said simply.
”Love?” He laughed. ”How can you love flowers?”
”Oh, but I can.”
”Well, I can't!” He had been wanting her to know that for a long while.
”Why not?” She asked him.
He could not bring himself to tell her why not.
”Throw them away!”
She let the lilies sift through her fingers one by one. And then the last fell to the ground.
”Are you satisfied?”
”No,” he said. ”What good does it do, anyway? The next time it'll be the same again. It always is.”
She reached out a hand and touched his arm.
”But I never know when you're coming. If I knew I wouldn't be picking flowers. I can't help having them in my hands when you come, if I don't know, can I?”
”It isn't that.”
He covered her hand lying on his arm with his hand.
”What is it, then?”
She pulled her fingers from under his and drew away a bit.
He made up his mind to try and tell her.
”It's the flowers. I should have told you long ago. Even at the beginning when we first--When I first came here, I--”
She interrupted him.
”When was that? How long ago?”
”How can I tell? Ages ago.”
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