Roses from him
perhaps the best short story i have ever written.
With every passing moment I gazed down at the wristwatch and uttered prayers to see him here and soon. We had been married last year and were so very happy. Only last year, the news of our child arriving made us as happy as horses in a hayfield or maybe more. He was supposed to come back three hours earlier but there was no sign of him yet. I knew he was a man of his words and knew what he said and so very punctual, this increased my worries. I gasped in the cold air of early January and gripped my fingers so tightly that the wedding ring on my finger begin to hurt my hand. That made me even more desperate, now my eyes were searching for him in every direction. I was out on the doorsteps for a while now and the frost had made my face quiet numb. I touched my face and spotted tears rolling down my cheeks. The winter had made them so cold. And so was he, a mile away lying on the cold streets of Karachi, people surrounding the body of my beloved, my honey. Someone had knocked him down as he was buying flowers from a hawker. They were roses and I was allergic to them. Only if I could ever know whom these roses were meant for.