"You are my Crazy" by Taylor R

Today marks the day he’s been gone for two years, unfortunately, it is also Valentine’s Day. I walk outside, to go to work and in the words of Hunter Hayes, “it seems like everybody’s got somebody but me.” There are heart-shaped balloons everywhere, the smell of roses with each step I take.

            “This is going to be a long day,” I say to myself.

            As I walk into the firm, I see bouquets of roses, my co-workers flushed because they know that they’re thought of. Oh my heck it is going to be a rough day.

            “Hey Marie!”

            “Hey Steven.”

            “It looks like someone’s been thinking about you; there’s a beautiful bouquet of lilies on your desk.”

            My head snaps to said desk, and boy was Steven right. They were gorgeous, they are also my favorite flowers and not many people know that. I go to sit and down and admire the beauty and look for a card, but once I find it, all it reads is, “I’ll see you tonight.” No name, no nothing. As anyone could imagine, I begin to have a mini heart attack; obviously, someone has been stalking me.

            As the day drags on, my eyes seem to always drift to the lilies and my mind to the mysterious note. I mean, I guess I’ve lived a pretty good life. I graduated from Harvard, work at a law firm, have a beautiful home, a family who supports my every decision, but most importantly, I have fallen deeply, madly in love with a boy. Man, if my stalker decides to really kill me today, that’s going to put a halt to my future plans.

            With my day finally coming an end, with not many interruptions from lovers delivering flowers, chocolate, balloons, or a mixture of all three. I walk home with my bouquet in my hands, wishing to take off my dreadful heels, change into my pajamas, watch Netflix, and eat a tub of cookie dough ice cream. My mouth waters at the thought, but my fantasies are suddenly taken away from me when I see rose petals leading to my door.

            I’m going to die. I slowly walk to my door and push it open. The house is covered in candles and rose petals, and standing in the middle of my living room is my love.

            Standing tall and proud, with the most beautiful smile on his lips, with his uniform still on, I see my man, and like any cliché movie, I run to him. It’s been two full years without being able to touch him, heck even smell him and that’s when he speaks. I hear his voice clearly, for the first time in two years, not through Skype, or through an email, or through a written letter, which I love so much.

            “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

            “Happy Valentine’s Day, Lieutenant Sinclair.”

            My soldier’s home.