She was waiting for him in the garden. He’d gone to get some wine for their moonlight stargazing tonight. He was always very romantic.
Walking among his many prize-winning roses, she was enveloped by their aroma. There were many varieties. He was proud of his green thumb.
Turning, she saw him running towards her.
“My precious flower. The love of my life”.
He finally said it.
“Mona, my flower!”
“Oh, Pierre! I love you too!”
Pierre reached her. He knelt down and moved her foot aside.
“You were standing on my prized-winning flower.”
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:Sarah Potter
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