“I made them,” Archie said. “When I stuffed the quilt up there, I must have torn the bag open. There should be one thousand wishes and nine-hundred and ninety-nine roses.”
“You made them?”
“Yes. I stole two packs of napkins from the diner, a thousand in each. Every night since I got back from Virginia, almost six years ago, I wrote on one. I wrote my wish.”
“‘I want Justice to be in love with me,’” I read aloud. “I am, Archie. I am in love with you.”
“Then, when it didn’t come true right away, I took a thousand more nights to make the roses. ‘Flowers on a breeze flutter earthbound from the blue. Once a thousand are collected…’
“‘A love reveals itself, deep, forever and true.’” We finished together.
“I’m one short,” Archie said.