"She loves me...She loves me not...she loves me...she loves me not..."
Every fragile petal I pulled from the blossomed bud, I felt a stab in my heart. I wanted to know what would have happened if I manned up and asked her. Utau told me to try pulling petals from a flower, saying the two options. She used to use it for simple things like choosing which salad she wanted out of two of her favourites. Today I am using her method for things far beyond the salad bar. Possibly far beyond this world - but how would I know? I'm just an undecided nobody, who wants to decide something far beyond my reach.
"She loves me...She loves me not...she loves me...she loves me not..."
I chose a pink flower. Not just a mere flower, the most beautiful rose I could find. Amu loved roses. She used to always bring a bunch of them to school to put on the windowsill. Everyone asked why she did it, but she never spoke about it. My seat in class was directly next to them, giving me the best view. When the sunlight hit them, they looked like like the sun captured in glass.
"She loves me...she loves me not...she loves me...she loves me not..."
She used to always smile at me during school and that always made me feel smug and wanted and loved. She tended to do that to a lot of people. We always were the most unusual best friends. She was always so happy and cheerful and I was always neutral with a reserved opinion. She was the sun and I was the moon in a way - polar opposites. I always wanted to know what we would be like if we were together, but I never asked. As cheesy as it is, I always imagined something similar to summer and winter, fire and ice combining together in a loving embrace. I didn't want to ruin our perfect friendship. It was all I had at the time.
"She loves me...she loves me not...she loves me."
I pause and stare at the naked bud. There are no more petals to pluck. I removed every single bit of its beauty to find out a 50/50 probability. It was the one I wanted and needed. Should I feel different? Should I be jumping for joy? No. I dont think I'll ever jump for joy, or even smile again. But thinking that the flower was telling me the truth makes me feel warm. I want to say it again, even if its just a fantasy.
"She loves me."
I let out a broken sigh and look at the gravestone in front of me. Not for the first time, hot tears spilled down my face in gushing rivulets while I traced the three carved letters that spells my loves name.
"I guess I'll never know."