Day 204 Beauty

There was a bowl of roses on a what-not at his elbow; he lifted out a great red one, like the one father had brought home nearly eight months ago.  "Take this."  I took it, the stem still wet, cool against my fingers.  "For a week it will remain fresh and blooming, as it is now; but at the end of the week it will droop and die.  You will know then that your faithful Beast is dying too.  For I cannot live without you, Beauty."  from Beauty by Robin McKinley a book that has captivated me since childhood