Down,with love

Today was ‘the day’; they had waited too long for it. They talked, in syllables and blabbering interspersed between the momentary silences. Silence smirks; not for them. His sweaty forehead and her dilated pupils betrayed the emotionless expression they wore.  Their eyes stood transfixed, even as tiny tear droplets flowed down her face, melting away whims and rage. They’d been in touch, the calls becoming distant and mails more formal with time; excuse being the respect for private space. The meeting place-rather public and ordinary, conspicuous by its privacy, belied its specialty to them. As emotions rose and memories flashed by, she let out a hesitant sigh-only if it wasn’t for him! Time’s cruel and rather short, he believed it won’t ever end; she knew it will, soon. As distant eyes pried, he took out the white rose he plucked for her, reminiscent of those courting days. Shots froze the words, his emotions, yet again; he fell, while his blood painted the rose red. Passion did what truth had failed to. She took it, amazed by his calm face, a voice which bothered no more. Her heart let out a faint cry, yet all she could muster was a courteous smile and a customary ‘thank you’. Crumpled sheets, did what rose couldn’t; she cried, for even he knew the plan, yet chose to be down, with love