The sun was barely peeking over the clouds as I sat down near the ledge.
"There's just something about cold mornings." She said, hugging me tight.
"Sprigs just around the corner." I thought.
But the cold of winter still lingered.
"Tout est bien." She said.
"Oui." I replied.
"I see that your french is getting better."
"Thanks to you."
The sky screamed of melancholy but the two of us felt content, like everything was going to be okay.
"The french say that love makes the greatest pleasures and most sensitive misfortunes in life."
"We had our fair share of both." I remarked, kissing her forehead.
"Look at this flower." She said.
She loved flowers.
"It's all withered." I replied. "What about it?"
"It's funny"
"Funny how?" I asked, puzzled.
"Flowers bring emotion to the world. It's a lot like love."
"But this one's dead. Where's the love in that?" I replied.
"Flowers aren't meant to last forever. The same goes for love."
She was the epitome of irony; She loved so easily, yet never really grew attached to anything.
As the sun was about to rise, I could feel the cold wind. The chill was like an omen-
A sign of things to come.
As the sun painted the sky with an orange tinge, she looked at me with eyes full of hope. But the sun would soon set and make way for another frosty night.
We both knew it- It was only a matter of time.
"Do you have a term for moments like these?" She asked.
"Memories." I sighed- on the very same ledge,
with her no longer by my side.