open -- forget you and forget her too

[aurelia emmaline moreau]

Around the same time of every year, the Memorial Creek Cemetery would be filled with roses and letters, one on each grave. A yawn escaped a girl's berry-tastic glossed lips, a small smile on her face as she delicately hand picked each rose. "Hmmmm..." She wondered, trying to decide what other colours she should get. She had too many red roses with her- even more than she needed. After another hour spent in the rose garden, she was finally done. Her finger tips were pricked with blood, but she barely noticed considering she had so many roses that if she set them all on the floor, it'd be taller than her. She paid the cashier with a polite smile, paying with her biological father's credit card. She gave an extra fifty dollar tips, just to cross her father, and because she was in a good mood. She placed them all into two boxes, and then shoved them into her Porsche convertible's trunk. She could easily walk there, but the two boxes were heavy, not to mention there was a third box filled with sealed envelopes with extra papers, envelopes and pens.

She took out the two boxes of roses and placed them on her old skateboard, gently placing a rose on each grave. It took her about three plus hours just to do that, and then another two to give the envelopes to the right people. She moved on to to the biggest tombstone around. It belonged to one of the founding families. Sophie was her name, and she had passed away due to an unknown sickness. She paused, noticing a letter on her grave that was directed to her. She reached for it, but then stopped herself before reaching for it again. She read it over and over again, her smile growing bigger and bigger. She laughed softly, and whispered a thank you to the paper, as if she was personally thanking the person who had wrote the letter to her. This was her very first thank you letter, and it made her so happy to know that at least one person appreciated her effort. She had been doing this for about five years now, and she always looked forward to this day. And then finally, she stopped at her grandparents' grave. She smiled brightly, sitting in front of them. "Hey Grandma Ellie, Grandpa Zeke! How are you two?" She asked, as if there'd be an answer. She pulled out a dozen roses and laid them on the tombstone.

"Hey, you're Emmaline, right?" A man asked her, probably in his late twenties. For a second she was going to say no considering that was only her middle name. She was so used to being called Aurie, it almost seemed like some alien language when they called her Emmaline. But then she recovered her hesitation and nodded. She placed on a friendly smile on her face, coaxing him to get out of his shyness. "I just want to uh.... thank you. For the letter to my fiancée. We uh... appreciate it." He stuttered, a hand scratching the back of his neck, nervous. "Jane, right? Your fiancée?" She asked, getting up from her skateboard. "Uh, yeah. How'd you know?" He asked in shock, in which made her giggle. "Lucky guess." Just good at eavesdropping. "So, yeah.... anyway. I just wanted to um... thank you. And that I always look forward to your letters. So, right. Thanks." And with that, he scattered away. "Well, unfortunately, I've got to go, Grandma, Grandpa. I'm so sorry. I promise you two I'll be back tomorrow. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy the letters. And sorry, it's like six pages each... Bye! I'll see you guys tomorrow. Promise."

She got up and slowly made her way back to her car. She let out a loud and long yawn. She had stayed up all night last night and the day before to write every single one of those letters. Not to mention she still had to do labs, write a fifteen page essay, and study for her big exam. She sighed, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She grazed it for a second, suddenly missing her brunette hair, but she couldn't dye it back. Can't dye it back. She looked to much like her mother in the first place, and to look exactly like her mother would just make her want to shoot herself. She didn't need to have a constant reminder that she looked like the person she single handedly killed. Well, double handedly, technically. the box she had in her hands still had about another dozen of roses. What was she going to do with them? She scrambled through it, pushing herself to a faster velocity. Before she knew it, she was on the ground, on top of a guy, and a sharp shooting pain on her right wrist. She quickly pushed herself upright, apologizing profusely. "I really am sorry. Oh, crap, you're not hurt right?" She exclaimed, ready to attack their clothes to see if they had any injuries. God, she'd never forgive herself if she had hurt the person unintentionally. Yeah, it wouldn't really make sense to you.