Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A single flower grows in a wasteland. Petals dry and withered, its stem so thin it was hard to believe it was supporting the blossom.
He stopped and stared, hearing the footsteps of his teammates halt behind him. Their voices questioned him, asking why they had stopped. He ignored them with practiced ease.
The flower looked so fragile… It was pink… Memories came unbidden, a flash of pink hair, and smiling emerald eyes. He pushed them away with a glimmer of annoyance. They were a weakness. Still…
He pulled out his water bottle and, in a rare show of kindness, poured some water on the flower.
He stepped over and walked on, never looking back. He couldn't. He had a goal; a purpose. And yet…
There are some things you never forget.