Creative Writing

• Fictum Vitae
• Paper Roses

⋆ Fictum Vitae ⋆

I begin to run my hands over the rough covers of the story books that clutter my bookshelves in disorderly neatness. Every world exists at the very tips of my fingers, painted across thousands of pages and millions of words. I can see the hazy blue fabric falling in sparkling sheets across the workshop window, barely stopping the moonlight from seeping through while draping lazily over the bookshelves. I wonder what she will think when she gets here?“This won’t work,” Lysander says, skimming over the spell again.“What’s the harm in trying?”“What if it does work, and you end up getting attached?” He looks at me, concerned for a moment before I shoot him a look in genuine disinterest. “You can be annoyed all you want, but it’s still a risk.” Rolling my eyes, I reach for the old spell book to review the ingredients. And to think, when I first came here, he had to teach me about spelling. My curly platinum hair falls onto the page, making a hissing sound as it drags.“So, five bushels of sage…” I read out loud, “Where’s my sage again?”“I already put it in, Bianca,” Lysander says, wiping his brow with his forearm. “Now you have to steep two chamomile teabags.”“I don’t think that goes into the potion,” I say, glossing over the ingredient list again in a frenzy.“Not for the potion. I could just use something to drink.” Lysander smirks, throwing his arm around my shoulders. I glare at him to strongly suggest that he makes it himself. He curls my hair behind my hair followed by a sweet but mocking wink before checking over the spell himself. Taking a breath, I pull my favorite book to my chest. Even though I bought this copy specifically for today, I can’t help but be taken with emotion. This book helped me through the toughest of times and always has been there when no one else could be. This may be the greatest moral crime I will ever commit towards the book I love, but I can only hope it will be worth the while.I tug at the sheet gently, making sure to tear cleanly along the spine. My eyes catch a few words as I scan through, mainly descriptors of the main character’s appearance alongside her traits of bravery, shyness, and selflessness. Kaia had always been the hero of her story, taking on battalions and saving the world-- but now she fits neatly in my hands on a disembodied scrap of paper.“Are you ready?” I ask. Lysander nods. The potion bubbles in lilac, sparkling with the glitter I had added to make it look prettier. As I lower the page into the thick mixture, the purple consumes it. Clasping my hands together, I mouth the words once before letting myself say it out loud: “Fictum Vitae.”Silence.I exhale the breath I unknowingly held, wanting to be surprised that the spell didn’t work. Maybe if I pictured it hard enough it would manifest in real life? I let my arms swing down by my sides in a momentary submission before letting my fingers intertwine at my chest once more. From behind my eyelids, I see a light bright enough to put the moonbeams to shame. Eyes snapping open, I fix my attention on the potion as it begins to glow, react, bubble and then—--Nothing.“I swear I read it right!” I throw myself toward the spell book, flipping the page back and forth rapidly. All of the ingredients were correct, the print old but not smeared. I’m certain that I got everything right—but what if I lost my ability to read? What if I just never learned how to read, and I’m just reading this wrong? I don’t know why it didn’t work. I double-check the specifications for the book page I was to select: 1 page of character description bound in a book with contextual pages and backstory for at least two months.“Um…” An airy voice rings from behind me. “Excuse me? But do you happen to know where I am?” I turn sharply on my heels to find the embodiment of the words I held so dear standing before me in human form.“Kaia?!” My voice cracks in surprise. Scampering up to her, with little hesitation, I notice my hand holding one of her braids, leaving her doe-eyed. “My name is Bianca, and this is Lysander, and we’re huge fans of yours!” I can hardly catch my breath; my words spill faster than my mind can compose them. “We like your adventures and your books, and we like tea just like you do!” She tugs at the end of her hair bow nervously.“My books?” Her eyes sweep the workshop, taking notice of the countless bookshelves and potion shelves that neatly frame the room.“Oh yeah! You’re a book character and we brought you to life!” Her face melts into confusion as I clasp her hand with excitement. They’re cold, likely because she just came into existence.“But I’m real…” She looks up at the moon through the window, moving to peel back the curtains to get a better look. I can see her eyes well up with emotion. “Where are the other two moons?”“In this world, there’s only one,” I put my hand on her shoulder. My thoughts begin to percolate as I began to understand the gravity of what we had uncovered. What if we could bring back the dead using their memoirs? Or what if we could create a friend just by writing their story or create a child for a couple who can’t have one? The possibilities could be world-changing. Lysander approaches the two of us and pulls me away from her and warmly smiles down at the bewildered teenager.“This must be surprising for you, huh?” Lysander’s voice is comforting and low, I flush slightly but my shoulders release tension. “I’m sorry for bringing you into this all of a sudden. This idiot was desperate to meet you.” Kaia turns her shoulders to look directly at me and smiles softly. “I used to read your books growing up, and Bianca has fallen for them too. You’re our hero, and it’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”“I’ve dealt with dragons, famine, and inflated food prices,” Kaia sighs “I suppose I can handle spending time with a fan.” My heart begins to pick up pace as my elation takes over my body once more. I loop my arms around hers and Lysander’s without fully fleshing out my plan. She yelps as I pull her toward the door.⋆ ★ ⋆The grass shimmers with raindrops, blue like the night sky. The three of us saunter, bathed in moonlight and the soft orange from the Victorian-style street lamps. Kaia’s eyes dart around faster than shooting stars, fascinated by the smallest of details. Every now and again, we have to stop and wait for her to catch up, like how an owner would wait for a dog to stop and sniff. Picking a blade of grass to twirl between her fingertips, she stoops down to investigate the growing glass daisies balancing on crystalline stems. Lysander brushes his black hair with his fingers, saying little to Kaia as though he’s afraid that he’d fall in love with her or something. Though, that should be what I fear—not him.“So Bianca,” Kaia catches up to us. “You said you made potions? Are you a witch?” I wince, choking slightly with my sudden inhale as I try to speak before my mind can process a response.“No, no! Spells are a common hobby in this town. Lysander and I just happen to study spells for a living.”“So you’re co-workers?” She glances down at my ring. Pulling my hand closer to my backside to hide it, she giggles while my face grows warmer. “Or not.”“We were friends as children,” Lysander reluctantly chimes in. “But then I moved away to a new town and we met again in our late teens and decided to open the workshop together.” His voice is more mundane than usual, as though he’s embarrassed by me. Maybe he does have a crush on her after all… or maybe he’s just shy meeting his hero? Kaia runs ahead towards the creaky old antique shop, admiring the ancient bulky computers and outdated globes backlit by the shop window. She cocks her head to the side slightly, trying to read the tiny print on the regions.“Why is this map round?” She asks, tilting her body trying to get a better view.“That’s the shape of the earth.” Lysander warmly informs.“Earth?” she straightens herself. “That’s a funny sounding word.” She doesn’t know what the earth is? Lysander explains the definition of the word, leading to more and more questions from her. He calmly answers and informs her of the definitions she seeks to know. “So the earth is the land… but the land is round, and there’s something called space?”“You don’t know any of this?” But her story is contemporary fiction... shouldn’t she know about this? A feeling of disappointment rushes over me, as my hero is reduced to the knowledge of a child.⋆ ★ ⋆Kaia leans over Lysander’s old spell-book with his notebook of adjustments. Pen-in-mouth, she compares the recipes side-by-side.“Spelling is about 50% trial and error and 50% luck!” I point her to the Lysander’s correction of substituting spiders’ webs for corn silk since spiders were out of season.“More like half waiting for Lysander to do it first and half reading Lysander’s corrections.” He remarks. Scoffing, I push my weight into the workbench like a toddler watching a grown-up.“Is this a spoon? I’ve never seen one made of wood before!” Kaia’s fingers explore the surface of the object, holding it up to the light before running her index into the curve of the scoop. Whenever I read about her, she always came across as so learned, so it’s a bit disheartening to see how little she knows about this world. “Bleh!!” Kaia slowly pulls the pen away from her lips, noticing the ink sitting bitterly on her tongue. Lysander points her to the washroom as she scampers away with a sour look plastered on her face.“I don’t get it,” I sigh, hugging Lysander’s arm. “Why does she know so little?”“There are gaps in her knowledge,” he rests his head on mine to comfort me. “She only knows what’s in her book.” I hadn’t even considered that. She can breathe, talk, emote—but is she even a real person yet? I wonder how she feels about all of this? Does she even feel?“Bianca, maybe it’s time to send her back?”“But I have so much I have left to do with her.” I pull away, my voice coming out more whiny than intended. I lift his notebook of corrections, pretending to be busy.“You can’t be so reckless!” Lysander pushes the book down from my face. “We shouldn’t have done this. You’re not even considering how she feels about this.”“You’re being so dramatic.” I lean in towards Lysander, “Imagine if we made our own characters? We could bring anyone we wanted to life!”“That’s out of the question,” His brow furrows, anger simmering under his guise of composure. “Can you imagine the consequences, Bianca? What if you get too attached? Or if you became best friends with them? The second they find out that they’re just a fictional character they’d probably want to leave.” I can’t help but laugh, but I think it’s just making him more frustrated. He pulls his arm from me and exits fumbling with the door, leaving me alone in my own workshop. I glance up to see Kaia come back glancing around for Lysander.“I’m ready to make my familiar!” She cheerfully remarks, galloping up to the workbench in front of me. She takes a look at the books that populate the surface before sliding one of them closer to her. “What’s this? ‘Star Crushed’?” She holds the book in one hand, pinkie and thumb widening the pages, as her eyes do the same.“That’s where you came from,” I giggle nervously. “Now, about your familiar…”“Rebecca...” She whispers, eyes welling with tears over the dog she left behind. I don’t want to say a word to provoke her any more. She flips through each page, as I can see something is changing from within her. Putting the book down with a lack of grace, she turns her body towards me, eyes avoiding mine. “I want to go home…”“But you just got here!” I shuffle closer to her, as her tears escalate further.“Bianca, I appreciate all that you’ve done but I…” Kaia pulls her hands to her face. “You’re making a decision for me and I don’t want to be kept here forever.”“But you said it yourself! You’ve dealt with dragons and famine and war…” Stumbling backwards, I hear how unreasonable my words sound but they come tumbling out. “You’re safer here! Besides, who will be able to teach me how to wield a sword?”“I’m currently questioning whether I’m real or not, I’m away from my dog and my friends and my family and you’re worried about how to hold a glorified knife?” Even though her words are stinging me, Kaia’s voice is still soft.“You’re right… I’m sorry.” Her tears must be contagious, since I can feel my voice waver. This world, this place would be so much safer for her. I consider every adventure her and I could have together. But this life may be perfect for us, but it wasn’t meant for her.“Can I ever go back?” I hesitate. She looks sad, so I nod. “Maybe we can spend one more day together if that would make things better?” I see Lysander slip into the room, seemingly to find a book to read. I draw a breath, speaking loud enough that he could hear me too.“I can send you back whenever you’d like,” I make my smile look extra forced so she knows how much I’ll miss her. Kaia looks down, face reddening with her smile. “I’m sorry for keeping you here longer than you wanted to be. I’m just really glad I got to meet you.” She wraps her arms around me as I catch a glimpse of Lysander smiling proudly at me. I play with my diamond ring for a moment in silence before instructing her to stand in front of the mini-cauldron. I clasp my hands together, taking one last look at her. She was everything I dreamed of and more.“I hope to go on more adventures with you, Bianca.” I feel my chest tenses as my face holds a sad smile and my throat hurting with anticipation of tears.“Fictum reditus” I choke out. Her bottom lip presses up as the corners of her lips play at a smile, indicating her goodbye. She starts to sparkle, similar to the glitter I had added as I watch as Kaia disappears into a silent ribbon of light. Words cluster together from the light to re-form the page that I had once lowered into the potion. The sheet of paper hovers in mid-air for a moment before lowering into my hands. There, reduced to a humble page, Kaia existed between carefully chosen words.“I’m proud of you,” Lysander puts his arms around me, kissing away a warm tear from my cheek. “Hold on, let me go grab you some tea. I found a really cool spell for recording dreams so we can test it out together, okay?” Before I can answer, he’s in the next room to boil the water. I turn to face the spell book, and flip it back to the Fictum Vitae spell. They should have a heartbreak warning on here. I internalize the words on the page one last time. Only—were those faded pencil notes there before? ‘Five bushels is too few, try six and add more as needed’. My curiosity gets the best of me, I quickly grab Lysander’s notebook and jump to the fourth page. An entry, dated four years ago sits before me. The recipe was written out plainly in his handwriting, black and red ink correcting and redacting each measurement. I examine the scribbles along the margins further: ‘Test 1 with short story was a failure: not enough character information’, ‘Test 2 with a poem was a failure: no context pages’, ‘Test 3 was a success’. Did Lysander try this spell before? I giggle slightly at the thought that Lysander may have cooked himself up a fictional girlfriend before we got together. I begin to think I might be jealous but I shrug it off and return to the shelves where I proceed to scan for the books I know he loved to read. I wonder which book was a success?“Tea’s almost done!” I’m startled by his voice breaking the silence so abruptly, but I respond quickly to avert suspicion. I return to reading the bookshelves. I glance up towards the moonlit windowsill where the curtains of the workshop drape over the bookcase. I climb the stairs up to the reading nook that oversees the workshop and stand on a chair to peer over the top of the bookcase. Eureka. I pull down small coil-bound book that seems to be more cheaply made than some of the homemade spell books that Lysander had put together. The whole book seems to b

⋆ Paper Roses ⋆

-⋆-
Like sheets of paper, we are at the mercy of life to shape us into who we are meant to be, to do what we’re supposed to do. Like paper, this world is transparent and linear, as flimsy and two-dimensional as the folding fans, the people, the cranes, and probably me too; we are paper-thin.
I unsteadily stand on the hollow tiles that line the street, their iridescent glassy hues waning in the twinkle of dusk. Paper moons, koi, and cranes populate the rooftops, taking flight in the mighty gusts while shackled to each building by their strings, all still more lively and sentient than those who had passed me by. The castle stands to the west, grand in its melancholy while mourning the disappearance of their princess. One of my hands, clumsily stained by green ink, plays at the side of my basket while the other holds a piece of merchandise.
“Would you like to buy a rose?” The words come to me more naturally than my own name. I sometimes would see women pass by, giggling at the sight of my flowers… or perhaps it was at the sight of me?
“Paper?” one blue-eyed man stops to laugh. “Why would I buy a paper rose when I could buy a real one two shops over for a third of the price?” I hold my rebuttal, grinning falsely at my non-customer. Pretend that you’re friendly, Kira.
“They’re handmade, sir.”
“I wish you luck, papersmith,” He smiles with little interest. “Maybe I’ll buy some of your stationery later.” He walks away. My lungs burn with anxious passion as I sigh. His eyes were so beautiful, one of the darkest blues I had seen today. I don’t concede that my eyes will ever change from their current bleak, colorless gray, but I had always found more interest in what color they would turn rather than who they would turn for. I would look at brilliant eyes and know that someone was loved—what an insignificant thought.
“Kira!” A voice breaks me from my internal conversation. Robin towers above me, grinning widely. “Are you done for the day?” Our eyes meet, his still silver as before. I find myself exhaling inadvertently in relief. His orange hair sweeps his forehead as though he had just styled it, but the aroma of coffee from the brewery says otherwise. I joke out a half-hearted insult:
“Your hair’s too perfect.” Robin laughs, ruffling the less-than-aesthetically-pleasing mop that occupies my head.
“I bring the group average up, lucky for you,” I punch him almost playfully before returning my basket of roses to the workshop.-⋆-Robin and I walk back to his place as the typical 'how was your day' and 'did you hear this latest piece of gossip' conversation continues for a while.
“Did you sell any roses today?” He asks, breaking through some short-lived silence. “I know it's high season for engagements, right?”
“Yeah, but no sales,” beaming up at him I laugh to soften my disappointed words. “They all want organic ones.” Robin’s lower lip stiffens upward in solidarity before he grins widely back.
“I’ll tell you what: if I ever plan to get engaged, I’ll buy my rose from you.”
“Aw, Robin, with you as my customer, I’ll sell out of roses in a matter of months!” He shoots me a bleak glance before pushing my head to the side in annoyance. We begin to approach his house as I massage my papercut-ridden hands in memory of the tiresome crafting that morning. My friend’s hands are covered in fresh coffee burns, but he pays no attention with his eyes fixed determinedly ahead. His focus always seems like he is thinking up something brilliant behind his thought-clouded eyes, but I know him better than that.
“Uh… Kira?” Robin grabs my arm. “There’s someone at my house.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, eyes fixed dully on him. “That'd be me.” His eyes widen with a roll, refocusing ahead to direct my attention. Upon the steps, a boy sits regally with his eyes closed and mouth veiled with the dark mesh of fabric. Next to him, a twenty-something woman stands, hands folded. Her dress is adorned with stars… perhaps a seer?
“We are seizing this house,” The woman proclaims, her voice smooth and deep, gesturing grandly toward Robin’s house. “My master wishes it.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Master!” Robin exclaims playfully. “Are you and your servant lost?”
“Please,” The woman barks while unsettlingly calm. “My master is not to speak. Please address me instead.” Shrugging, Robin continues to address the woman:
“Tell your master that this is my house, and I make a really horrible roommate,” I can hear the snicker behind his voice. He is undoubtedly the funniest person he knows.
“Master,” the brown-haired woman turns to the child, covering their conversation with the drape of her sleeves with little success. “This man says he lives here.” The boy nods in confirmation. I can’t help but hold back a smirk at the absurdity of this ‘translation’. Who are these two clowns? I’ve never seen such obscure dress aside from satire of the royals.
Approaching the woman, Robin continues while cutting off her objections: “Your master is kind of young. Why do you take orders from a child?”
“I’m eighteen, you dunce!” A feminine, sharp voice from the ‘boy’ shuts us to silence. “Luvina, why are these two incompetent commoners insulting their all-powerful, most glorious me?” Her eyes are still closed as she blindly charges at us, her hood falling and veil back to reveal her long, white braided hair with not a single strand out of place. As she snarls, her magenta-colored lips have parted softly, displaying her clenched teeth. The remaining daylight gently highlights her golden skin, freckles dusting her exposed shoulders slightly, and the rest of her body noble in stature and in dress. Her posture, however, reminds me of a very angry mouse… or something to that effect.
“Lady Iris, please.” Iris? Like the princess? Luvina holds the girl’s shoulders as Iris falls into a blind rage.
“Take back your words, putrid commoner,” She shouts senselessly.
“Princess?” Robin pushes out. She lifts her chin in superiority, as Luvina nods in confirmation.-⋆-The grandfather clock ticks. And again. Are they getting farther apart? I can swear the silence was breaking time. The four of us sit awkwardly in Robin’s tiny house, coffee cups in hand. I push my fingers hard against the ceramic, jarring in movement with each rub. No ink transfers to the cup; how unsatisfying. I briefly glance at the princess with her eyes closed. I should’ve known right away just simply based on that. It must be difficult to stay like that for so long without falling asleep. The seer leads her around, but how can you go about your day in willing blindness?
“Allow me to change,” The princess says finally, trotting off with Luvina. I hold back all of my questions in fear of being heard, but Robin’s worried. I wonder if they’ll stay? “Commoners, bring me tea.” A piercing shout emanates from Robin’s room, and the two of us jolt up in fear of being persecuted for high treason should we disobey. Scrambling to make the perfect cup, we put together an array of cookies he had baked as well as fragrant Jasmine tea. The spread was tantalizing, but I feared the worst if I kept it to myself.
“Hurry,” Robin whispers to me, grabbing the tray hurriedly. We trot down the hall anxiously, sugar bowl clutched in my sore hands.
Someone pushes out in front of me, too quickly for me to register her face.
Her eyes are gray.
She stands frozen, eyes meeting with his. We stand, unified by shock. I glance at her, the princess, while gradients of beautiful hues fade into her eyes.
They’re purple.
It’s their purple.
“Master Iris!” Luvina calls out, covering her mouth. The two glance back at Luvina in horror. Robin blinks a few times, as though it would drain the new eye color from him. I can’t feel myself breathe. In that moment, I didn’t exist, not even to myself. The moment played out like theater, and I was just a prop piece. Robin’s soulmate slowly approaches him to take in the first real look at his face. They turn to both of us as though we had a solution, matching irises every shade of beautiful.
He found her.-⋆-"My parents will absolutely kill you if we don't get married," Iris yells, grabbing Robin by his shoulders.
"I don't know you," He stresses, both vocally and internally. Quietly, I play with the straight ends of my hair. It's as monochrome and dull as the rest of me too. I have some scraps of paper in my pocket... what can I craft from it? My brow is stuck furrowed in some emotion of sorts, and I can feel my eyes watering from the dryness of the room. The heated table didn't do much for me; I'm still pretty cold. Do I have enough rice for dinner?
"This is not a recommendation! Tell him, commoner number 2." A glare of hers lands on me, as I remind myself of the wonderful moments when her eyes were perpetually closed. Please shut up, I'm too tired for this. "Fine, Kira and I will go find a rose. You stay here and help Luvina make the plans!" With a tight grip wrapping around my hand, she pulls me from the floor, leading me towards the market.-⋆-The streets are beautiful at night. Paper lanterns seemingly float on invisible swoops of string, every beautiful shade of red you can imagine, the character 火 ironically printed on each and every one. Provocative images of both people and blossom trees are block printed onto many pieces in the night market, where glowing flecks of paint replace fireflies on fans and scrolls.
"It's crowded here," Iris pulls herself into a hug. "I want to go where there are fewer people." Taking a deep breath, I take Iris's hand and lead her toward my workshop. Spoiled brat.
"You can stay here until you're ready to go back out." She asks no questions, absorbing every detail from the run-down and cluttered interior. Running her hands across the wood of the front desk, her fingertips meeting with an array of dusty books before my basket catches her eye in the low candlelight. She lifts a rose and cocks her head to the side. "How can you rush into something like this? You don't even know Robin." Jealousy crosses my voice as I avoid eye contact. I want to say more, but what if she gets angry?
"It's meant to be!" Swooning, she romantically clutches my work to her heart with both hands, forlorn with purpose. "It's only natural that we stay together now. It's the way nature intended." Looking at her arouses a stinging sense of urgency and frustration within me. She's going to ruin that rose if she holds it like that much longer.
After hours parading the market, she settles on a white rose that she ordered with a ribbon of pearls. Cherry blossoms flutter down from nature's canopy above us, as we sit on the cherry-wooden bench below; that's more morbid than I had previously realized. Her soft hand delicately holds the rose, white like snow and bloomed just perfectly for her engagement. It's happening all so fast and I haven't even had a chance to talk to Robin about it. She hasn't really ever spoken to him either, so maybe...
"Hey," I force, looking deep into her brilliant eyes. "If Robin is ever sad, you'll probably find him here. Just a tip for the, um, future."
"Oh?" she touches the petals of the rose softly, unattentively.
"This was our meeting place when we were younger. When things get hard, he comes here to get his mind off of things." More things come to mind, as I slap my hand down to turn to her. There's so much I'm missing but I have to say it. "He's pretty bad at showing how he really feels. I barely can get him to admit that I'm his friend sometimes..." A cluster of thoughts bombard me. "There's also this particular coffee brewery he likes. He's really picky because he works in one so the smell of regular coffee makes him sick."
"He works at a coffee brewery?" She knows nothing about him. I calmly sit back and glance up past the paper moons to marvel at the real one. "Because of Luvina, I've known every moment of every day. She told me that my eyes would change, so I got her to take me so I can face it head on. But now, I kind of feel lost. I don't know anything about him and now I'm expected to marry him... And I never even told her how I felt." I catch a glimpse of sadness on her face for the first time as she mentions her seer. I pause for a moment, fiddling with the strip of paper in my hand, letting it glide between my fingers while I begin to shape it. I finally begin to understand that she and I aren't too different. I pop a paper star onto her lap before standing up, smiling at her.
"Do you want to learn papersmithing?" With that, we move to my workshop as she tells me about Luvina, herself, and her plans for her engagement gala for a week from today.-⋆-"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Robin remains grand before me, his hair slicked back now clad in his traditional black celebratory outfit gifted by the royal family. His violet eyes are glittering, permanently paired with hers. I know deep within me that I can't see him get engaged, but my heart nags me to be there for my friend.
Though I can't decide, my body moves for me as I shake my head. Everything is uncertain now; his princess awaits. Will I be able to see him after today? Should I have told him...? Maybe it's for the better. He steps closer, lingering for a moment, before pulling me into a firm embrace. Tears burn my eyes, but I choose to stay strong for him. His clothes are still cool, they smell like flowers. I can't smell coffee on him anymore. I don't want to let go, but I know I have no choice. Just stay for one more minute. He pulls away, as he gazes back in silence. "I'll see you later." He lies weakly. In a long moment, he's gone. The house is empty. Sitting at my table, I pull apart pages from a book I no longer need, cutting perfect squares. I fold each piece deliberately, reducing and binding as the paper touches the rough of my fingernail. Twirling the edges, I feel something coming together but it remains in pieces, petals of a paper rose scattered, separated across the surface.
I wonder if I should expand the shop? The pieces curl against my will, mismatching each other. I can't force the pieces together; it doesn't work. I think I have to run to the bakery tomorrow. I'm out of bread. The paper isn't sticking. Taking a deep breath, I take the pieces in my hand again, slowly working them together. They aren't made to go together; that's why it's not working. Taking a breath, I re-work the piece. They fit together with a lot of work to form the inner petals.
My legs crack tirelessly as I stand up from my crafting. An hour has passed already? My eyes are sore from focus. Moving lethargically to the kitchen, a glimmer catches the corner of my eye. A pearl-studded organic rose lies wilting on the counter, petals falling off, existence impermanent. Yellow petals smell of rot, pearls remaining pristine on its corpse. How do you possibly forget your rose on your engagement day? Idiot. I suppose I should bring it to him? I hesitate to grab the rose and ponder it over for as long as I can. Maybe I should bring him a paper rose too? That way, he can have one when this one shrivels up. But then again, it's not traditional, so Iris would probably hate it.
My door cracks open.
"You can't change fate while following it has paved for you." Luvina appears, gesturing to the rose tightly grasped in my hands. "Are you going to let him present the rose?"
"If you're so concerned, then why would you bring Iris here in the first place?" Luvina looks away. "You came here to face her destiny head-on when you knew you would lose the woman you love to some guy she barely knows."
"It looks like we have that in common. You too are an enabler." Our eyes meet, the same gray scale just like every other soulmate-less person on this planet. We are alike. Her eyes lock onto mine. "Robin needs his rose."-⋆-

The air burns my lungs, tightening me as I sprint down the uneven walkways of the streets, protecting the broken natural rose in my hands. The lanterns overhead weren't leaving me soon enough as I impatiently let my legs carry me thoughtlessly to the one place I knew my heart told me to go. It's dark, but I can see the bench ahead of me, blossoms covering the seat with no one there to clear it. I was wrong.
My legs catch the grainy wood irritably as I sit, my throat longing for water and my breaths are painful. I was too late. What will he do? This is as bad as when he went to his sister's doctor's appointment without her. That idiot. Either way, the rose is well-wilted and broken in my hands. He's gone now, I shouldn't have come here.
"Kira!" Robin stands before me, out of breath as well changed out of all traditional clothing.
"You're late!" I laugh at him bittersweetly. He looks at me earnestly, taking me aback. I stop in my tracks before looking down at my hands, happiness draining from me again. I hold out the rose for him to take back to Iris. He glances at it and back at me, exhaling in an almost-laugh as he shakes his head, rejecting it. Smiling warmly, he reaches into his pocket of his jacket as he takes a deep breath.
For me, in his outstretched hand:
a paper rose.