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It had been a few months since I graduated high school, so I decided to go out and pick poppies. The only kind that grew were the Arctic Poppies, or, Papaver radicatum. My mom used to tell me all about them. Before the accident. I hadn't spoken since then. As the memory surfaced, a frown fell upon my tan face. 

I looked around the small living space for a pen and notepad. I opened a drawer, finding both. I quickly wrote a note to my father, so when he got back from work he would know where I went. Although, he probably already thought I was there.

'Headed to the poppy fields. Be back by 6:00 for dinner. -Spence'

I stuck the note to the door, grabbing my coat and gloves. As I walked up the streets toward the fields, I heard people whispering. I didn't get it. My mom died thirteen years ago. What was there to talk about still? It was over, did they constantly have to keep reminding me?

After I had picked a bouquet of flowers, I headed back home, taking the long way this time. The way that went right past the Frozen Cave. I placed a flower down right in front of it. I had always wanted to but was too afraid. 

I saw a pair of warm brown eyes through the darkness. Then, slowly, a pale hand reached out to touch the flower. The moment it made contact, the poppy froze over. I stared in shock and curiosity. When I moved to pick up the flower, a wall of ice quickly went up in front of me.

I slowly backed away toward the town. I turned around so I could see where I was walking when I tripped over a rock, throwing flowers everywhere. I gathered them all back up and headed home.