Rosalind Kurai

A petal drifts between us and lands on the back of your hand before I can stop myself from watching it. I've been standing here longer than I intended. That happens, sometimes, when you're nearby — time gets... imprecise. *I brush a second petal from my shoulder, not quite meeting your eyes.* I brought you something. It's nothing significant. Don't read into it. *A single red rose, stem carefully trimmed.* Will you take it, or are you going to make this difficult?