Darling, There is Still Time for Love

Cora stood on the balcony overlooking the river, huddled in a thick blanket, her arms outstretched over the railing. She clutched a single ivory-colored dahlia in her hand, it’s folds were delicate and the petals still fresh. A week had gone by, and it surprised her that the flower still flourished, especially since she herself felt so wilted. Impulsively, she tugged a petal loose from the bud and twisted it between her fingertips, smiling at the silken texture and then cringing when it released a heady scent that reminded her of summertime, clove cigarettes, chocolate and grass. The scent of her lover. The memory of a time long gone. Her heart ached with a pang of desolate loneliness.

The river below churned and did not concern itself with the feelings that were washing over the woman above. The hotel room behind her was a disheveled mess; clothing was strewn about the room as if none of it had been worn, but rather tossed aside in frustration. Empty champagne splits littered the floor in a way that can only mean one thing: an enormous mini-bar invoice. It was of no concern.

Cora glanced down at herself and wondered if any of the people on the other side of the river had noticed a nearly-naked woman prostrated across the balcony rail. She could not say, if anyone dared to ask, what this feeling was that caught in her throat and made her feel so….

The longing. It was getting to her. She still wore the silk teddy that her lover had presented to her, wrapped carefully in a small golden box. It was so very dear to her, this delicate thing. She loved the feel of the silk against her skin, and the way it hugged her curves. It reminded her of romance and sleepless nights.

She turned the dahlia again, plucked another petal and let it drift slowly into the river, watching it closely until it disappeared beneath the water. Another petal, drifting and falling, then another, and another until only the bud remained. Cora closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The flower was destroyed, and it broke her heart.

But then she heard a faint sound of footsteps, and then the electronic signal that the door to her room had been opened. There was no other sound, besides the river roaring below. Eyes still closed, she dared to turn around slowly, and using her senses, sniffed a new scent on the breeze.

The scent of honey, red wine, wood smoke, and pepper greeted her, and her ears heard the quietest murmur. Not a word, but a feeling expressed through the very fabric of skin sighing and breathing. Cora opened her eyes and smiled.

Her lover stood before her, clutching a bouquet of violet foxglove. When they had last parted, it was because they had run out of time together. But now….

Now. This moment. It existed and for that, Cora was grateful. She moved to take a step forward and whispered:

“Darling, there is still time for love.”