It has been a beautiful day. A serene day in the apple orchard. It will be a good cider season. The sweetness of the apples swirl in the light breeze. Can’t get many better days than this you think. This is just one of those days.

In the distance you see your daughter skipping along toward you. Your heart melts. She is gorgeous in her little yellow sun dress. Even from a distance you can tell she has gotten it dirty. That’s character you say to yourself, kids are supposed to get a little dirty.

She calls out to you, ‘I’m going to catch your hug!’

‘Not if I catch yours first,’ you yell back.

You race toward her and she to you. All you want to do is embrace that delightful little angel with her own innocent little halo above her head.

1

Not 0.

1

You stumble in your run, trip and take a tumble into the dirt. Your daughter jumps on top of you and gives you a great big hug.

1

‘I got you, I catched your hug!’

‘You sure did,’ you stammer as you stand up, pick up your little angel and take a good hard look at her head.

1

It’s still there. Your mind races from corner to corner like a little mouse in a box threatened by the paw of a playful cat.

This can’t be, you think to yourself. Something must be wrong.

You kneel in front of the very thing you love the most, more than anyone in the world. Look deeply into her eyes. Nothing is different. Still the sweet innocent little girl you have known for five of your best years. It must be your gauge, you insist. It must be broken. It’s impossible. Or is it.

1

The question lingers.

‘What have you been up to my darling?’ you ask knowing only earlier she was with neighbours. A lovely couple and their two little boys.

‘Picking flowers! Lots and lots of flowers. Pink ones and, and blue ones. So pretty. Except the red one was ugly.’ She looked at you with a satisfied bright smile.

‘Oh lovely, lovely.’ You don’t know what to think. You decide to take her inside for a bath.

A couple hours later you sit alone in front of your mirror. Your daughter in bed. A zero on the reflection of your head. She sleeps peacefully a room away.

1

It is still there. It won’t go away. You decide tomorrow to go to the local pub. War veterans. If there is a problem, you will surely know if their numbers are off from the usual. Better to sleep it off and find out tomorrow.

Night passes.

Your daughter has jumped on you for sleeping in with a tiny slam to the guts. You open your puffy eyes from your poor nights sleep and look up into your daughters glowing face.

‘Wakey, wakey I need egg’n’bakey!’ she yells into your face.

2

What.

2

You can’t believe what you are seeing. No longer is the number one but it is now two. That’s definitely impossible you think to yourself. My gauge is absolutely broken. A sigh of relief escapes your clenched teeth.

‘How was your sleep my little angle?’ you ask her with a relieved and very happy smile. You would rather your mediocre gift be broken than something worse.

‘It was fun! Very very very very very fun!’

‘Did you have a good dream?’

‘I picked flowers again. Except it was dark and all I could find was purple flowers. No pink. I like the pink ones.’

‘A good dream.’This made you happy.

‘But there was another red one. Yukky red. I scrunched it up and stomped on it. Yuk, Yuk Yukky Yuk. Red ones are yuk.’ She got off the bed and stomped her foot hard onto the ground. ‘Just like that.’

You found it strange about the red flower. You had never noticed she didn’t like red.

‘You should bring me a pink flower then my dear, since they are your favourite!’

‘No they are not my favourite. I just like them better than the other ones.’

‘Oh so what is your favourite?’ you begin to ask, but suddenly you are cut off as you phone rings. You pick it up. The caller ID shows your neighbour.

Sobbing fills the phone. A voice crackles with words, ‘sorry to call… son passed away… don’t know why.’

You can’t believe what you are hearing, ‘Sorry, what?’

‘He’s gone… forever. But my other son ran away, in the night. Just want to find him. So upset about his brother. I just want to know he is safe. It’s too much. Is he.’

‘I… no he is not here. I’m so sorry.’

‘Thank… I gotta go, Police are here.’

You slowly hang up the phone. You are dumbfounded.

‘I like shiny yellow,’ says your daughter.

‘Shiny yellow?’ you ask not grasping the previous topic of conversation.

‘Like you, shiny yellow. Me too.’

2

You notice it again.

‘Shiny yellow is gold,’ you slowly inform her.

‘Yes, gold. Only we have gold.’

‘Gold flowers?’

‘Yes, I can pick yours.’

Suddenly a wave of euphoria washes over you. Joy swallows you up. You have felt this before, many times. An intense emotional happiness.

‘See,’ she says. I pick your flower everyday.

You can’t stop smiling. But the thought is there.

2

‘Where is the red flower?’ you ask her.

‘Ewww. I stomped it because it is yukky.’

‘We have to put our rubbish in the bin,’ you insist.

‘Out there.’ She points out your window.

You look out but the sun is too direct and you can’t see out there properly. You run to the door and outside into the morning light of a beautiful day.

There on the lawn lay a figure of a what was a little boy. He was completely white, his eyes, hair, not even his lips had colour. He just lay there staring up into the sky. Motionless.

‘His flower was yukky,’ says a sweet little voice beside you. You turn to your darling angel. She is staring at a lizard bathing in sunlight. 'But here is a nice pink one,' she says gleefully.

Above her head reads:

2