From: psnow@cwis.unomaha.edu (Paul Snow)
Subject: Rosebud, a story pt. 3
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Sun, 20 Dec 1992 07:24:06 GMT



	The rose looked even more exquisite up close than it had from 
afar. She closed her eyes, held the rose to her lips, and inhaled deeply.
The fragrance was just as pure as the bud's sculptured form. She sat down
on the empty bench and admired the rose's beauty in the shimmering
moonlight. 

...

	"I don't know what to do," John said with exasperation, "I can
conceive and plan these romantic moments effortlessly... but when the
time comes for execution, I fail miserably."

	"Don't be so hard on yourself," she comforted, "You are two-thirds
of the way there. Most men that I know don't even try, and the ones that
have tried to be romantic with me, so far at least, were only using romance
as a tool, not really **being** romantic. You **are** romantic, even if
it doesn't show much."

	"But what good is it if I cannot express it!" he replied in
frustration, "It is like... when a thought comes to me it is like a spark
in my heart. And as the thought takes root, the spark becomes a flame. The
single flame is joined by others as the thought emerges into an idea and 
then a plan. The anticipation of the moment when the plan becomes action
adds fuel to the fire which burns in my heart. As the moment approaches,
and my heart is ready to burst into a raging inferno... then... I screw up!!
It is like I have opened my heart to a cold, cruel wind which immediately
extinguishes the flames, and leaves only ashes and smoke."

	He lowered his head dejectedly into his hands and sighed deeply.
She rose from her chair, crossed over to the couch, sat down beside him and
placed her arm gently around his shoulder. He slowly raised his head,
brought his hand up to his shoulder where her hand lay, and took her hand
into his. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as they stared together
into the dying embers of the fire.

	After a long pause, she quietly responded, "We'll I have two things
to say to you."

	He looked into her pale blue eyes and said, "Yes..."

	"Number One, stop trying so hard. It's not you who is screwing up,
it is your expectations which are screwing you up. I know my sister, she's
a true, dyed in blue, romantic, but because she doesn't expect that of you,
she misses the cues which otherwise would be quite obvious. *I* know
that you are romantically inclined, but she hasn't seen that side of you
yet. If you would quit trying so hard, and just be the way you are, she'll
see it, and then those moments *will* happen."

	He gave her a grateful smile, thanking her with his eyes. She
turned her body to face his, moving her left hand to his right shoulder, and
placing her other hand on his left.

	"Number two," she said, her voice lowering, "If she's too dumb to
see what a wonderful person that you are, I'll take her place faster than
you can say Uncle!"

	Almost before she had finished her sentence, she began to furiously
tickle John along his sides in the spots where she knew from experience
that he was the most sensitive.

	"Uncle, Uncle!" he spurted out between his cries of laughter,
falling to his back and desperately trying to fend off her attack.



+----------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Paul Snow     **HUGS**       email to: psnow@ns.ccsn.edu                    |
|Dana College     **SMILES**     Don't feel a fool tripping over your feet,  |
|Blair, Nebraska     **  8-)  **    when your eyes are fixed on the clouds...|
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