The Black Canvas

Yellow

During the next week, Marisole and Ellis hung out in the afternoon. That was the only time they had together because Marisole went to classes in the morning. They would meet up by that same café and walk aimlessly around the town, just exchanging conversation. Their favorite place to go was the pier. That peaceful, quiet pier. Then again, every second Marisole spent with Ellis, it was quiet, because she didn't see another soul within a hundred miles. This confused her greatly. When she would bring it up to Ellis, he would dodge the question or just not care that they were literally the only people present.

"Would you want to grow old together?" Ellis asked Marisole on Friday afternoon.

"You are so cliché, Ellis." She replied, chuckling.

"Come on, it's a serious question."

Marisole rolls her eyes. "I guess. I mean, we have no choice. We're close in age, we're gonna age together."

"I meant grow old together, as in share memories and never leave each other."

"I know what you meant, I was just joking."

"Mhm." Ellis denied, not buying it. "Sure you were."

Marisole laughed as she clutched his arm and leaned against him. "Of course I want to grow old together. I wanna be with you."

They looked at each other for a second, then proceeded to fake gag over how cheesy they were being. Joyous laughter filled the air and nature seemed to smile along with them.

The next week started out well. Classes were going great for Marisole and her relationship with Ellis grew stronger everyday. Then Wednesday came around. It was the middle of the week and Marisole began to feel nauseous by the end of her last class. When the class was over, she slowly walked back to her apartment and laid in her bed. She stared at the walls and felt her head spin. It's nothing but a fever, Marisole thought to herself, It will pass soon.

She didn't remember when she feel asleep, but when she woke up, it was 12 hours later and dark outside, with exception to the street lamps. She began to look for her phone frantically on the bed, panicking as she realized she didn't tell Ellis she was sick. He was probably wondering where the hell she was. When she found her phone, she turned it on, also realizing that she never gave Ellis her phone number. Palm to face.

Marisole laid helplessly and chewed her nails. She knows it's a bad habit, but it's a nervous tick she has. Why didn't I give him my number? What if he thinks I ditched him? What if he thinks I hate him? A knock was heard at the door. What? At this hour?

She walked out of the bedroom, still sick and groggy, and crossed the lounge to the front door. When she opened it, all she saw was a large, beautiful bouquet consisting mostly of yellow flowers. Now, some people are overjoyed to see a bouquet of flowers in front of them, but Marisole was confused. Not just because of the flowers, but because for one, it's 11:30 at night, and second, there was a knock at the door, yet nobody was there to greet her.

She gently picked up the flowers, shut the door, and put the bouquet on the coffee table. She felt herself smile as she caressed the daffodils and marigolds. In a sick induced daze, she still manages to notice a little white slip of paper sticking out.

'Feel better, sweetheart.

-Anonymous'

Very sneaky, Ellis.