“Hey.” I spoke to Lily.
“Do you want some tea?”
“No,” she responded back, “I want some peace.”
“I do too. So do I.” I said to her. “But will it ever happen since we barely have anyone around?”
The raindrops keep falling on the porch as the soldiers moved around our home. People were starting to throw rocks at our window, and our dogs hid under the chair, shivering.
“It was really good knowing you, once again.” She said in tears, wiping her sorrow off of her eyes. “If we ever happen to be roommates, I would do it again. Are you packing your things now?” She pointed at my empty luggage as the water boiled on the stove.
“No.” I said in complete emptiness. “Better go empty handed. We have been hiding for years now.”
“Very well. I was going to do the same thing. Have a chocolate bar just in case your soul feels hungry.” Lily handed her chocolate bar that she delicately wrapped in tin foil.
A familiar sound of my password started to ring on the doorstep. As the soldiers attempted to open the door, it felt as if one of my family members betrayed me. No one knew the password of my house, except my family members.
I let the dogs out in the porch and ate the chocolate bar. I held the hands of my roommate Lily, and her hands felt like a delicate pedal of a flower.
And that’s what we were; nothing but pedals of a flower.