We spoke all day as we walked in the rain, our words flowed smoothly like honey alternating and woven in a patterned game. Her eyes obscured through clouded glasses, but soft as obfuscated fields of daisies whenever they turned my way. We began down the gravel pathway, back to my apartment out of the rain for a cup of green tea and a spoon of honey and perhaps to play a little game. Wiping the moisture beads off my glasses, I filled a vase with water and daisies. The room saturated with the scent of fresh daisies roaming around, clearing the way as the windows rinsed in the mist and rain. The city sat drinking in light the color of honey. It was time for that little game, so on the table, I set out a bottle of wine with glasses. I readjusted my glasses awkwardly staring into the bouquet of daisies waiting for the silence to slither away, until the words poured down like the rain. I kissed her. She whispered “O, honey.” I pulled back, a cat and mouse sort of game. We took turns being timid like wild game. My cheeks blushed as fog accumulated on my glasses. Thoughts intertwined like a thicket of daisies, her words showing me the way between good and evil just like the rain running round as honey. The words stuck in my ears, trapped in honey— a thought to remain, a reminder of the game. On the table stood our two empty wine glasses, ruby stained light projected next to the daisies. It was time we were on our way, we walked back out into the rain. In the park the rain painted the grass with honey, fragile like game pieces made of glass as the daisies smiled at the pathway.
-Samantha Derleth