Forget Me

                 Blood.

                He shook himself. He dressed himself quietly and left a note in the kitchen. Red roses seemed appropriate today. A spring wind greeted him as he slipped out the door, and he could have sworn that he heard a faint whisper, a ghost from the past.

                "Be happy."

--

                 A year and 3 months, plus or minus a few days. She proposed tentatively, the guilt of the abnormal customs peeking through her speech. He accepted without hesitation. They cried.

                Miles away, the gold band lay forgotten in the earth, an earthworm pressing curiously against it.

--

                The night was warm, violin music floating on the honeysuckle-laced wind. They danced together, the yellow light making them heavenly. The pavilion's white columns glowed in the night. Congratulations and good-wishes had bloated them with joy. His happiness was second only to hers.

                The dawn had found him in tears, peace filling him inside. An extra bouquet lay over the grave. It had been well over two years.

--

                2:34 A.M.. Wake up. It's happening. There was only time for getting dressed- hurry, hurry- and rushing her to the car, carrying her down the steps. The flowers lay on the counter, forgotten. She needed him.

                4:51 P.M.. His child was in his arms, her tiny sides rising and falling gently. She couldn't go until tomorrow, but if he wanted to he was welcome to stay in the hotel-

                He opted to sleep in the chair next to her, their fingers intertwined. His last, fleeting thought before passing into sleep was that he hadn't delivered today. But it didn't matter. He could always make it up tomorrow.

--

                A cold sweat drenched his thin t-shirt. He tried to repress a scream. The nightmare had come back, the coppery stench of blood clogging his nostrils. He'd said tomorrow, but tomorrow was three months later, it seemed. That final crunch rang through his head over and over as he dressed, tears welling up in his eyes.  It had been so real..

                Thirty-five minutes later, white roses shone in the waxing moon's ghastly light.

--

                Five years exactly. He put down the bunch of wildflowers his daughter had collected, trying to apologize somehow. But he knew it was pointless. The dead can't hear. He had so many excuses: first steps, birthday parties, business trips...

                He remained silent.

                Breakfast: Eggs and bacon, toast and orange juice. A bowl of Cheerios with honey for the little one. The phone rang. She picked it up, handing it to him almost immediately, excitement suddenly blooming in her eyes.

                His brow furrowed, then relaxed. He thanked the caller profusely and hung up. She asked him if he had- had he really?

                Yes.

                She screamed with joy and they embraced, the girl howling with fright from the sudden excitement.

--

                The first leaf of autumn fell, hitting the van in a orange blaze, falling off dejectedly when it saw that its attack did no harm. The sun timidly peeked its head over the horizon, its pink hue underlying the dawn's grays. The girls were asleep, lulled to bed by the vehicle's gentle rocking. He could feel somewhere in his heart that they were leaving the hills forever.

                He drove past the graveyard without a second glance. It had not known his presence for over a year now. Remorse suddenly pinged through him painfully, and he winced. He didn't understand it. Then it was gone.

                The tombstone stood, the graphite remaining emotionless and seemingly untouched since that awful, awful day. It had had no visitors, and the grass threatened to creep up upon the marker of the dead. In the distance, a bird called sleepily. A car's engine roared. And a tear fell down its face- or was it just dew?

                The van headed into its next phase of life.

                It was 6:47 A.M.