He stood dazed watching after the Lincoln. He couldn't stop smiling. After all these years…she finally noticed. Then his smile began to falter. Thinking she was just being nice to a person that had helped her. He thought she may not remember him again. He stood with mixed emotions and stared at the single flower blooming from a patch of grass. He stared at it. It swayed as a breeze brushed passed him. It reminded him of…him. It was the only flower that was a Rose. The other flowers were purple asters.

The one single flower that was different was just like him. He was different. He wanted to leave it, but he wanted it. He wanted the flower that reminded him of him. But if he did pick it, it would die. But if he picks it then replants it with the roots still there, it would live…right?

So he did. He extended his arm and put his fingers on the base of the flower. He gently tugged on it trying to get it loose from the soil. He was careful not to touch the thorn as he tugged. The soil slowly began to loosen as he wiggled it. It finally gave away. He always felt a spot aching from emptiness. He felt complete now that he had it.

But why? Why did he feel that way about a flower of all things? He walked home with him and his flower. His flower.

He unlocked the door and entered his house. He used to be an older sibling, but now he's an only child. It wasn't long ago since the accident. He made his way to the small closet his mom keeps gardening tools inside. He opened it and it revealed seeds, pots, gloves, some soil in a bag, and other instruments for the garden. There were different pot sizes and colors. He chose one that wasn't ornate. It was a small pot that supposedly was made of clay. He put it on the small island in the middle of the kitchen and got the soil.

He opened it and a wisp of nature and dirt reached his nose. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. It wasn't a bad smell, but it wasn't a good smell. It was just too strong. It smelled like the morning when the grass has fresh dew drops on it. He needed to hurry. He didn't want it to die or wilt.

~Still Painting Roses~

He sat on his desk in his room with his head leaning against his hand. He watched his rose on the window sill being shone on by the sun. He admired the way the rays of light looked as if it was a waterfall spilling down onto the petals of it. He smiled. He scratched his head then continued in his study. He probably would have regret not picking it.

As he worked he had thought about her. Charlotte. He had wondered if she actually would remember him or forget. He didn't want to think negative, but it was only natural. Everyone has negative thoughts. Even the dearest of people do. He was interrupted by a clatter sound downstairs. He stood and walked to his door. He opened it and walked down the hall slightly. He leaned over the railing.

"Mom?"

There was shuffling before his mother appeared below him. She smiled.

"Oh, hey honey."

She had straight slightly wavy dark brown hair that was shoulder length and hazel eyes. She was about a half a foot shorter than him.

"Is everything alright?"

She nodded and pulled a couple of strands behind his ear still smiling.

"Oh, ok."

"Are you hungry?"

She asked as she walked into the kitchen.

"You want me to make you a sandwich?"

He then paused realizing that he was hungry. He was grateful for a mom like his.

"Yes please."

He didn't really care what she gave him; as long as he wasn't hungry he was fine. He went back into his room and began putting his work in his bag. He then glanced at the rose then walked out. He trotted downstairs and made his way to the kitchen where his mom was making him a sandwich. He tugged at a lock of her hair playfully as he passed her. She whipped around and poked him in the stomach.

"You know, I'd do that to you too if you would grow out your hair."

He grinned.

"And that's exactly why I don't."

He loitered there for a while and watched her as she worked. She was making him a turkey sandwich. She had laid out the ingredients next to her. He saw a tomato and gasped dramatically.

"Mother,"

He said putting his hand over his chest and began backing up to the island.

"What?"

She said turning around to her son resembling a person who had been horrified of a gruesome act or such.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

She looked at him confused.

"What? Tell me what's wrong?"

"That!"

He said in such a dramatic tone. He twisted his face and pointed to the red tomato. His mom slowly looked back at the tomato with her mouth slightly open. She turned back to him, then back to the tomato. She then turned back to him and reached for the tomato. She slightly smiled. His demeanor changed serious and of fear.

"W-what are you doing?"

She put on an innocent look and furrowed her brow slowly inching towards him.

"Oh, nothing. I'm not doing anything. Just simply walking towards you."

"Mom! I'm warning you!"

She cocked her head to the side.

"Oh what're you going to do about it? Aren't you forgetting who I am?"

"Mom, it's not funny. Get that thing away!"

She raised it in front of her and pointed at it in a questioning way.

"What, this?"

"Mom!"

She snickered and shoved it towards him.

He let out a feminine like yell and quickly scrambled over the island onto the other side. His mom couldn't help but laugh at his actions. He ran towards the stairs with his mom tailing him with the tomato in her hand. He jumped up the steps skipping two each step. His mom ran up the steps one by one still laughing. He ran down the corridor and too his room closing the door. He panted and sat in front of his door. He held his breath to hear where she was. She giggled behind the door.

"I see you…"

"Mom."

He groaned as he breathed heavily. She sighed.

"Ok, I had my fun. You could come out now."

"No way. Not with that still in your hand."

"No seriously. I have the stuff out; they're going to get spoiled."

He listened and heard footsteps sounding fainter. He opened the door and she was already down the corridor and walking down the stairs. He walked to the stairs and went down. He saw her in the kitchen and she was making the sandwich. After she was done, she put it on a plate and set in on the island where he leaned. She smiled at him. He smiled back.

"Thanks mom."

She smiled and made her way out of the kitchen. He checked for tomatoes. Surely there weren't any. He smiled and shook his head. He always knew his mom was the prankster type. That's why he loved her.

And another chapter :) please leave a review and tell me what you think :)