The Last Dandelion

Dandelions were over the place, the wind blowing them gently through the landscape of greens. And he was there, your hands outstretched, like reaching for mine. I hesitated. I remember you leaving me alone on that cold and gloomy corridor. But then, your eyes twinkled like the stars we used to gaze at when we were much younger. When things were a lot less complicated than how they are now.

I began slowly, calculating my little steps, counting how many footsteps should I take. Fifty. Oh no… a hundred? Or two, maybe? But it seemed like eternity. Like the hands of the clock froze to death. And I feared this was just a faux. A hallucination. A fantasy. Then I looked straight to see if you were still there.

Of course, you weren’t anymore…

I should have cried, I know. But I can’t anymore. Not now, not now that I have seemed to emptied my tear glands of whatever that was inside of them. Maybe this was really the end. And so, I picked one dandelion, made a wish, and let it flew away.

My wish? You. And us. Again.