By Christopher M. Collins
Two wooden boxes, one large, one small. As one rolled away into the flames, the other sat upon a woman. A woman veiled in black.
The lid lifts. Brightness invades and something temporarily catches it
The blue was deeper than her eyes. Where hers seemed icy, the petals were merely cool. They shared sparkle, a spatter of metallic flecks upon the paper. The stem attached, it slotted into the centre of reds and purples and yellows.
Is there anymore of that blue?
She had been startled by a boy. His hair was a black she hadnt noticed and the eyes a brown as warm as chocolate.
Im sorry, she had replied.
A shallow frown appeared and he had nodded before he left his seat beside her.
Later he ran to her, the flower in hand.
Its yours, her delicate fingers told him as she softly smiled.
Another object joins the light. Round, shiny, with a length of stri