Page 54 of Death

A card lies beneath it. I pick it up, a smile drifting across my face, as I unfold it and read the dark red hand-written note.

Happy Birthday, my love.

I bring the rose to my nose and its scent takes me back to the dream.

You’re lucky I love you, young Tannis.

My heart skips twice then stops completely.

I never said it back.

Was I supposed to say it back?

Do I even want to?

I smell the rose again and the answer is more obvious than I care to admit.