A carefully placed red rose landmarked the centre of a table for two. Clean white dishes laid to each end; their elegance supplemental of the symmetrically ordained arrangement. The aroma of a meticulously crafted repast crept its way through the room, as it escaped the bustling clutter of a busy kitchen. Atop a fireplace mantle, towards the room's posterior, lay a small box, and a clock that had ticked 45 minutes past the hour.

The young man turned his glance toward heart pounding cadency of the ticking timepiece. He shook his head, as a nervous smile formed on his lips. Small beads of sweat sweltered upon his brow. He wiped them off with a clean rag, and stared back at the clock. Forty-five minutes, he thought. She's forty-five minutes late.

However, this presumptive revelation only grew his already glistening smile. She was always one to arrive with fashionable punctuality, and he loved her for it. She was his angel, the cure for his shaking heart. She was his princess, and tonight he would ask her to be his queen.

The butterflies that danced within his stomach caused his hands to tremble. He paced back and forth, as his echoing mind rehearsed a carefully formed proposal. Tonight, he would tell her how much he loved her, how wondrous her presence made him feel, how gifted he truly was to have her. Tonight, he would ask her to be with him for the rest of his life. But a careful glance at the clock noted a discrepancy of forty-five minutes.

He had a sneaking suspicion that she already knew what tonight was about. And as the clock ticked, and his spirit glowed, his mind traced conflicting thoughts. What if she knows, he pondered, and she decided not to come. His hands grew tense and his palms began to sweat.

His heart ached for her embrace. He wanted to feel the softness of her lips against his, the glimmer of love in her eyes, and the beauty within her soul. He wanted to take her in his arms, take her in his life. He wanted to take her hand, take her. And as he raced with thought, his pacing was silenced and his spirit perked from a shallow rap on his front door.

That's it, He thought, forget about dinner, forget about a night of romance. I'm going to tell her exactly how I feel about her.

He gave himself one final look over, and adjusted a slight tussle to his hair. Once again, he wiped the sweat from his brow and hands. With that he rushed over to the door. His heart pounded with his definitive emotion. But he opened the door, and stood; and stared.

A tall man, in a blue and black uniform stood before him. The badge on his chest seemed tarnished, despite its sheen. A condoling reluctance was forged upon his face. "I'm afraid to tell you sir," The man articulated, as the moonstruck boy, froze in fear. "There's been an accident......."