My hair blew behind me in the cold wind and I snuggled my face into my scarf. I felt a bit like Red Riding Hood as I walked through the trees. My coat was bright red and reminded me of her cape. All that was missing was the wolf . . .
I didn't wish that a wolf would suddenly appear, so I changed my train of thought. Instead I thought of my art class. I had an assignment due the next day, and I still hadn't started. I could draw . . . Garry. Garry was always in the company of thoughts of my art class. I'd painted Garry countless times, drawn him even more. He bombarded my sketchbooks and my art class assignments. He even was painted on my wall. I smiled as I thought of it.
It was a rather sad painting. Garry was surrounded by darkness and blue, wilting roses. His eyes were closed and he smelled a bright red rose, full of life and beauty, with a sad smile. I'd painted within the first month after the . . . incident.
I'd also painted Mary. Mary sit, her green dress flowing around her. She plucked pedals from a red rose, and another, where Mary was running away with a blue rose. Above the two, I had written Love me, love me not.
I suddenly imagined Garry, laughing, reaching his arm out, a lemon candy in his grasp. I would draw that for my art assignment! I started to plan my drawing. Garry would need to be slightly in the background, his hand comming closer to the viewer. I would need to . . .
"Ib?"
I looked up, sniffling in the cold. Was it . . . ? Could it really be . . . ? Had he found me? I saw the figure come closer, purple hair and all.
"Garry?" I ask comes within reaching distance and my eyes go wide. "Is it really you?" I ask. He smiles and nods."GARRY!" I cry and jumps into his arms. Tears spring my eyes and a huge grin spreads across my face. "It really is you!"
"Ib!" He lifts me off the ground and spins me in a happy circle.
When he puts me down and starts to back away, I hug tighter and say, "I'm not done yet." After a moment I back away.
He whips the tears from my eyes and says, "Ib, don't cry. Please don't cry." And I see how glassy his eyes have gotten.
I hit him in the arm. "I havn't seen you in five years! I think I'm aloud to cry!" I'm glad it's cold and I'm already flushed, or I would have blushed. "Sorry. I'm just so glad to see you."
His smile is bright. "I'm glad to see you, too."
We talk for a while, and he walks me home. We exchange phone numbers, so we can get together sometime. I invite him inside, but he needs to go, because he's still in the process of moving here.
I colapse on my bed and laugh. I stare at the painting of Garry and can't whipe the smile from my face.