Sedan

In broad daylight with a prolonged harsh electric horn the black Sedan rushed from behind, and passed in a hurry, nearly kissing my right arm.

Almost in a reflex action I jumped left in order to save myself from death that almost touched me with his cold shivering finger.

I was gasping for life—I looked terrible—surely I looked terrible. Nobody ever looked handsome with terror stricken eyes.

Bloodless went my face and I gazed at the rushing Sedan. Nothing came into vision through the black glasses.

Suddenly one arm came out of the window and waved towards me. An arm, a ladies arm, milk white and feather like skin. The gold bangle with enamelled red stones of Her heavenly hand sparkled in the sunshine.

I know that arm more vividly than myself. It belongs to one and only one person in the entire galaxy. I know that hand—it is She—no doubt.

The hand waved in a gesture to bid farewell. I raised myself from dust and in a mad pursuit I chased the black Sedan. I chased that hand. I chased Her.

The Sedan emitted thick black smoke onto my face and covered me up. It made me blind.

I coughed; I tried desperately to wipe the blackish smoke out of my eyes.

I saw that lovely hand threw a rose towards me. That beautiful hand waved for the last time while the Sedan speeded up and soon went out of sight.

The smoke was gone. The Sedan was vanished. Only one rose found lying on the lonesome road.

Slowly I walked towards the rose. I stooped to pick it up. The Rose was a dried one—with pale withered petals—with no sign of life.

A lifeless gift for a lifeless insane.

One last sigh went unnoticed to fill the desert air.

A dead Rose only lived.