She was so careful going over the puddle. She couldn’t bear to stain her beaded champagne shoes. He helped her with the long train of her cream-colored dress while she clutched her bouquet of roses. She hesitated, and he swept her up in his arms. A tiny squeal of delight slipped out, and she turned her dreamy gaze toward him. They cleared the puddle, and he set her down gently. Hand in hand, they walked toward the sunset.
She never knew a single rose from her bouquet dropped in that water. That day, her bouquet was so full she didn’t see the missing flower. But years later, would she notice? Would she wonder where that flower went?
