Word Count: 500 Max
GROUP: 29
GENRE: Romance
ACTION: Freezing
OBJECT: A teardrop
Place: TBD
I first saw Natalie when my parents checked me into a hospice for young adults. Her long, mousy hair covered her face, but I still saw a tear rush down her cheek. In my first letter home, I called the place a misery garden, but there was comfort in being around people my age, all of us riding the same ferry to the end.
After a few weeks of settling into my new routine, I noticed Natalie more often. We shared outdoor recreation time. While Mr. White pushed me around the grounds, I often asked him to loop me around the greenhouse so I could sneak glances at her as she tended to the flowers. Every so often, she would look around to make sure no one saw her pluck one and press it into the book she kept in her hands. She seemed to favor the little white drooping ones the most. She said they were called teardrops.
“Want to circle around the greenhouse again and pretend not to admire Natalie?” Mr. White said, helping me into my wheelchair. “That obvious?” “Enough that all the orderlies have a bet on whether you’re ever going to ask her out.” “It’s not like I can take her anywhere,” I scoffed. “What am I going to do? Have you roll me into the cafeteria for a candlelit dinner with the hospice’s finest grape juice?” “Maybe worry less about where you can take her and more about spending time with her.” “You placed a bet I wouldn’t ask her, didn’t you?” Mr. White chuckled and shrugged.
A month passed before I found the courage for more than small talk, and weeks more before I could eat at her table. I brought her flowers from other parts of the property, small ones she could press into her book. Mr. White never cared as long as I gave him ample time to look out for the stricter orderlies. I noticed she saved certain pages for the flowers I brought, and I lived for the startled smile she gave me every time I handed her one.
One Wednesday night after dinner, Mr. White wheeled me past the game room and kept walking. When I tried to ask him where we were going, he simply smiled and kept pushing until we ended up in the cinema. Natalie was sitting alone, watching the opening credits of a musical that was barely audible over the clicking of the projector’s reels. He parked me next to her and handed me a call bell.
“I guess he bet I would ask,” I mumbled to myself.
“No,” Natalie said. “He bet I would.”
My stomach dropped, and my throat tightened when she put her hand in mine.
My heart thumped to the rhythm of the clacking projector as the rest of the world froze. A tear slipped down my cheek and curled around my smile as I squeezed her hand back.**