LAST ROSES(Francys Wagner) The first time Anna saw Edmond, he was playing ball with the other boys in a park near her home. She was walking with her mum and he stopped playing to look at her.
He smiled when his eyes met hers. Anna learned that he was new to the neighbourhood.
They encountered each other again at school, a few days later. Edmond was a year older than Anna and in a different class.
At the age of nine, she was accustomed to walking home alone. However, as Edmond resided nearby, he began accompanying her, thus initiating their friendship.
From that moment on, they would share everything—stories about their parents, discussions about themselves, and their youthful perspectives on life.
They would stop at the bakery where his uncle worked, and Edmond would pick up one or two loaves that hadn't been sold in the morning. Sometimes his uncle would give them each a piece of cake or biscuits. It was a delightful treat.
In his presence, Anna would feel safe...
The teenagers’ days made them realise that their connection was more than just friendship. It had been latent since they first met, but they were unable to comprehend the feeling at that time.
It was a love being cultivated in the quiet pond of their hearts, as if it were a seed that was sown and then flourished lavishly.

The first kiss happened—clumsy, soft, pure, magical...
He would confess that what caught his attention in the first place was her blonde strands and then her iridescent green eyes.
She would say she was amazed by his black hair, beautiful, tanned skin, and deep, dark, mysterious, gentle gaze.
He would make promises to her. ‘I'll give you a princess’ life and always love you...’
She knew then that her prince wouldn't come riding in on a white horse, but that he was here, so close to her, the man with the calloused hands of a joiner.
She dared to dream.

When she turned sixteen, her father died of a massive heart attack. It was a Sunday when he was off his work as a train conductor, just after lunch. He had sat outside on the small porch, looking out over the cobbled street, smoking a cigarette, on that dull day.
Grey, muffled, as if it were a sign of what was to happen.
She remembers the packet well, lying next to him on the chair. White, with a red circle in the centre, like a shooting target. Lucky Strike, the brand. Irony or coincidence?
This was imprinted in her mind as being responsible for her father's death.
The resources left by him were scant: a modest house and a small sum of money. Fortunately, Anna’s mum was a dressmaker with a steady stream of clients, and Anna had started to learn the trade.

At this time Edmond was already working in carpentry with his father.
One year later, he joined the army, where served for a year. His body transformed, gaining more muscle.
Upon returning to civilian life, he sought permission to court her. After some time, there would be talk of marriage.
Anna was thrilled. Edmond was the love of her life, of that she was certain. Their encounters grew increasingly intense, with a mounting desire to express their feelings for each other more intimately. Yet, she resisted any suggestion from him to do so, mindful of her mum's advice: ‘Be cautious with what you hold most, dear.’
Ah, if she could have imagined what was to come...

It was a rainy Sunday morning. Anna had woken up feeling unwell. Despite the excitement surrounding their upcoming nuptials—five months to go—there was an underlying tension that hung heavy in the air. As they sat together the previous night, he was quiet—which was unusual, he hadn’t even brought flowers, didn’t invite her for a walk.
His unease was palpable, and she was aware of what he would not say, as it would conjure up what they feared.
She had nightmares that made it difficult for her to sleep well. She saw the wedding dress, that she and her mum had been making for some time, being pulled from her body by two men in uniform, and torn apart. The sleeves revealing her bare arms, the skirt ripped off exposing her legs. She tried to protect it by hugging herself to prevent them from tearing the rest of her dress. She screamed, but no one came to her aid. The men laughed loudly.
In another scene, Edmond was standing on the edge of a cliff. She called out to him, he looked at her, lost his balance, and fell... She desperately went to the edge, and when she looked down, she saw him holding out his hand, but she couldn't reach him.

It was after eleven o'clock. She sat at the table, sipping tea while her mum prepared lunch. Then, the radio on the bench, broke the silence between them. The announcer's words shattered any remaining peace like a thunderclap.
She shivered and her mum had a grave expression on her face as they stared at each other.
All Anna wanted was to be with Edmond at that moment, but her legs wouldn't obey her, if she tried to run down the street towards his house.
Their future had just been sealed as uncertainty and hope would be the only thing she could have...
Could it be simply a mistake...
That she had misheard...
That she would awaken from this nightmare...
But the aroma of the food, the clatter of utensils and lids on the pans and her mum’s voice addressing her, proved otherwise.
‘I have to go urgently to buy some things before it's no longer possible...’
Bringing her into reality...
Before long, the scenario would change. Scarcity of food and overpriced items.
No one could sleep peacefully. At least not her or Edmond, who would be tense knowing that he could be called up at any moment. Which didn't take long...

Nearly two months after the announcement, Anna would be standing on the railway station platform, next to his mum, hugging Edmond as tears rolled down her face uncontrollably.
He had undergone three weeks of training at the military service branch.
‘Why do you have to go?’
‘I have to. You know that. It’s compulsory...’
‘You could ask them to dismiss you...’
‘Things don’t work like this, Anna. I'm young, healthy, I wouldn't have any excuses to offer...’
‘We were going to get married...’
‘That’s no excuse... Don’t worry, when I am back, we'll get married,’ he had said, resolute.
‘Oh, Edmond...’ Anna wanted to say ‘if you come back’, but the words were stuck in her throat, choking her, afraid she could utter a curse. She sobbed.
He kissed her languidly, said goodbye to his mum, and they watched him walk away, joining the other boys in a queue that resembled animals going to the slaughterhouse, even if some did seem to be celebrating.

At that moment Anna thought of her father. How much she missed him, the funny stories he used to tell.
She had only travelled with him two or three times, typically to visit relatives with her mum—those memories were precious. However her mum’s demeanour had changed after his death. She became sombre, no longer smiling like she used to.
Anna imagined if her father was alive, he could even be driving the train that would take Edmond from her. The idea was unbearable...
The last image that stuck in her mind was of him waving sadly from the train window as she clung tightly to his mum.
Their embrace spoke volumes of shared anguish and silent strength, against the backdrop of engine revving, bells, horns, and the bustling and chatting...

Eleven months had passed, yet it seemed like yesterday. How she missed him. The thrill of his kisses, the safety of his hug, his smell, his voice—a constant presence intoxicating her senses.
Regret gnawed at Anna, for not becoming a woman with him, for holding back their hankering for each other...Now, she yearned to recall him, remember him, with more intensity, rather than just the most daring touches...

The news had crash landed late in the afternoon. His tearful mum had brought the letter, heartbroken...
There would be no body to say goodbyes. Only thousands of pieces disappearing into the murky depths of a swamp...
Lying in bed, Anna's watery eyes remained fixed on the flickering flame of the lamp, creating a dance of shadows on the walls.
Rain was falling heavily on the zinc roof...
The drip in the bucket counted the seconds, the minutes going by in the night...
She felt cold, but winter had not arrived.
With trembling fingers, she reached for the diary at her bedside, and etched the pain of her soul into its pages...
Among them, she placed the dry petals of the last roses he gave her...
Nothing else mattered without him...
There were no longer any illusions...
The hope of being happy one day was as remote and flimsy as the certainty of filling the emptiness inside her...
Life could be described as the wind outside—strong, magnificent, invincible one moment, then almost instantly, merely a frivolous breeze, a struggled whisper, ‘Oh, Edmond, I cannot live without you...’
Then, an ephemeral breath, before finally fading away...

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