Goldy Moldavsky

So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be.

—WILLIAM BLAKE, “THE GARDEN OF LOVE”

Maybe it was a trick of her mind, but she could’ve sworn he looked happy to see her. Relieved, even.

dread rose up steadily within her like mercury in a thermometer

and let out the world’s most loaded sigh. It held sadness and exasperation. Rose had never been so insulted by someone who hadn’t even uttered a word.