text: Leo Vey was getting weaker. Deep wrinkles lined his face as he smiled at the cashier, bidding her a good day. Leaning heavily on his cane, he grabbed the bag of groceries and hobbled out the sliding doors. He knew his knee would entirely give out soon; it was a constant ache he ignored. He did not have time for it. Warm sunlight hit his face, and he paused outside the storefront, welcoming the warmth. Closing his eyes, Leo's wrinkles smoothed as he inhaled deeply, the air fragrant with the smell of flowers. A sudden deep and hollow pang rocked his chest, and for a split second, he thought this was his last moment. A whispering, ever-growing darkness that relentlessly clawed at his weary soul hoped it would be. But Leo breathed that scent again and knew. Ushered through time and space, he was thrown into the past and remembered. ` There she was. His Lila James. God, he was the luckiest man alive. She hadn't noticed him yet, leaning against the sliding door with a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade cooling his hand. Lila fixated on her little garden, her pride and joy. Oh, how Lila loved her garden. Out in the dirt, rain or shine, gardening even on the days Leo begged her to stay in. She would only shake her head and say, "Oh Leo Vey, don't be silly, it's dancing weather." Her eyes sparkled the way they did, and he lost all words. The sun beat down on her back. Leo watched the sweat gather at her temple. She’d braided her hair in a crown-like fashion encircling her head. Fitting, Leo thought, She looks like a queen. "Are you going to stand there and stare, Leo Vey, or will you hand me my lemonade?" Lila asked as she carefully placed a daisy into the earth. He chuckled, crossing the lawn to his beautiful wife, and passed her the cool glass. She smelled like the sweetest flowers, flowers he could never get enough of. Her grin was broad and unrestrained, a smile he’d spent his life chasing and would chase to the end of his days. Leo loved Lila like Lila loved her garden. Dirt speckled her hands and was smeared across her cheek. She wore her favorite gardener dress, a deep violet color embedded with beads that looked like tiny stars when she twirled. "Care for a dance Lila James?" She threw him that same smile that made fireworks erupt in his stomach. As she drew up to full height, hands to her hips to brace her back, she winced, then laughed. "I've been waiting for you to ask." She gripped his hand, and he twirled her loosely. A giggle escaped her as he placed both hands on her hips and lifted her to the sky. For a moment, he was young again, a simple boy in love. "Let me go this instant, Leo Vey!" Lila cried out. Although she protested, she secretly loved the wind brushing her face and tousling her hair. He placed her back on the ground, and they swayed to a rhythm of music only they could hear. They danced and danced until sweat slid down their spines and the sky darkened, for it was unspoken between them to dance while they were still able. Leo spun Lila one last time and tugged her close. She smelled of lavender and daisies, a smell that would haunt every daydream Leo had. His knee ached, but he ignored it, caressed her face, and whispered into the night air, "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me." Lila gave him her famous smile. "Thank you for being my best friend." Her wrinkled hands covered his, and her face, worn with age and countless years before the sun, looked happy. A tear ran down his cheek as he pondered how they had gotten so old so fast. All the memories and years had merged into one long dream. Leo shook his head as if he could dust off the cobwebs. He wished they had more time. But he had no regrets, not when he spent his time loving Lila James. Their story was the same no matter what day it was. Leo would come home from work and follow the scent of flowers all the way outside, where his beautiful wife worked in her garden. When she was happy, her days consisted of lavender and daisies. Some days-- rare days--Leo would step through the front door to the smell of Angelonias and bleeding hearts staining the air. Those days, he knew she was sad, so he would follow the smell to the garden and give her a hug. On other days, it was daffodils and roses, which meant she had too many feelings to sort through. Sometimes, she spent weeks planting Angelonias and bleeding hearts, and Leo loved her nonetheless. He picked her up, and they would dance. At least after spending a lifetime with Lila, that was what Leo concluded. He paid attention. Most days were good days--days of lavender and daisies. Lila was usually happy. Weeks passed, seasons changed, and Leo Vey hobbled through the front door. He’d worked overtime and arrived home just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. He waited for the smell of flowers to waft to him. He waited some more. And waited, but there was nothing. He crossed the house, through the sliding glass door, through the little gate, and into the garden, where he smelled something new. Something sweet. Leo could not breathe. He stood frozen as his world fractured into a million pieces. Lila lay on the ground clutching a flower that--at the time--Leo didn’t know the name of. He choked on a sob and called the ambulance. When he built up the courage to go to her garden again, he planted her little flower, which--he later learned--was a moonflower, a flower that bloomed in the darkness under the dim light of the night sky. He choked down its significance, shoving the wickedly crafted meaning into a dark box in the back of his mind. He needed Lila. There was no other way. Leo blinked. Sunlight burned his eyes, and tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks. He was at the grocery store again. Leo gripped his cane and stepped toward his car. A familiar smell drifted on the wind, and he sniffed. Once. Twice. Lavender and daisies. His Lila was happy.