Red Rose

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson 

I knew the only thing that needed to move to the new house was the rose. The single red rose was the last memory I had of Johnson. This memory needed to stay with me forever. I wondered how I could keep the rose alive when in reality, I knew it wouldn’t live much longer. Johnson had been my one and only and I didn’t know what I would do without him. When the rose finally died, I suddenly realized I was on my own. Until then, I never knew what it felt like to be free. To be alive. 

More Friday Fictioneers stories can be found here.


4 responses to “Red Rose”

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