“But it all just died in front of her porch. No matter how long I knocked, how loud I knocked, she never opened the door…”
She got up to her feet quickly, beaming. She felt that whirlpool again inside her stomach that for a long time she hasn’t felt.
She walks with light steps towards the door and takes a good, wishful grip on the knob. She took a deep breath before opening, then, “Forgive me,” greeted the gardener. Her heart sank at the sound of his voice. “A new damsel aroused my fancy, and to her I gave the Feelings I used to give you,” the gardener continues, “but it all just died in front of her porch. No matter how long I knocked, how loud I knocked, she never opened the door. The idea of her engulfed me so that I forgot to tend my garden.”
The maiden just stares at the gardener without a single word, but smiling. Her eyes sparkled so brightly it could replace the stars. She was attentive to every word that spills out his mouth, as if they are the water that could finally quench her insatiable thirst.
“Madame,” the gardener persuaded, “it’s only now that I would ask this.”
“Anything,” the maiden said.
“I know I refused your token of Memories before, but can you hand me at least a morsel right now so I can buy seeds for my garden and start to grow Feelings again. I promise that this time, it is only you who I would offer it to.”
The maiden’s grin widen, and stuttered, “There on the fireplace, under the great quilt,” the maiden moved so that the gardener could enter, “I kept every Memory I have, all my riches.” she pointed at the hearth, “take with you my Memories.”
The gardener entered the maiden’s house and there he saw on the ground all the petals of the Feelings he gave the maiden, and he was reminded of Fall and its breeze. The gardener neared the fireplace and then lifted carefully, with his gentle fingers, the great quilt. And truly, under it were all the Memories the maiden has.
“Madame,” the gardener calls, “this is too much for seeds of Feelings. Tell me, how much should I only take?”
The maiden, who has lost herself in the idea of the gardener’s return, finally said, “Everything.”