Stac-y

What's a name so sweet that one cannot tell another? He wanted to learn her name, yet she refused to, comparable to the tale of Romeo and whom he loved, whose name he could not speak after her rumored death.

The woman spoke first, “Excuse me” and the sound of those words was a song to Troy's ears. He had never heard such beauty come from a woman of such grace as her. He thought he knew her but couldn’t tell from where. No matter, he thought, to know her now was all that mattered.

He got her to talk, but to share her name, was the real challenge. The real comparable scene to Romeo's love for whom he loved.

"A name holds value, yet our words thus far have no true understanding," the young woman shared. Her gentle tone had already captured the young man's heart.

"No name needs to be shared just yet, but may we come to know each other better? Perhaps then a name could be revealed?" Troy proposed.

"Perhaps so. What shall we learn from each other?" she asked.

"Tell me about yourself—any words you want to share, any secrets you long to reveal."

She laughed softly, and Troy's heart soared. Her laughter meant the world already.

"The young lady you speak to before a name can be revealed loves to trot on horses and wander through green meadows beneath the sunset. Could that be appealing to you?"

Troy absorbed her words, and a thought came to mind: her presence was more appealing than he could describe.

"Horses are a hobby, as are sunsets and walks through meadows. Might we take a stroll one day, perhaps at dusk in a nearby meadow?"

The young woman seemed pleased and continued speaking of herself.

"How do you feel about food—cooking, preparing, and savoring? Food must be the best pathway to my heart." She blushed at her confession.

"Food, oh food, where art thou now food? To eat must be a great joy beyond measure—crafted with my own two hands, and pleasing to the senses."

The young woman began to walk, and Troy followed her along the street. They glanced around at the cobblestones, the weathered walls of nearby homes, and the clear blue sky on a perfect day.

Troy observed her graceful steps and the scent of her presence, consumed with fancy towards such beauty, of the young lady and of this day when they met.

The young lady, with a gentle sway, walked on with grace. She glanced at Troy with an eager look, as to perhaps seek a deeper connection.

"We speak of joys, of foods, and strolls," she mused. "Yet what more can be known beyond what we share?"

Troy pondered her words, and with a steady but happy tone responded, "Perhaps more moments of closeness, we shall uncover more truths, more dreams of each other. But for now, let us savor the present."

"What do you want, come that one want was all you had?" Troy asked her.

"What everyone else wants, a self-peace, a full stomach, and a purposeful means to my day's work. How about you?"

"What do you do for work?" He asked, but she gave no answer.

"Are you to not answer back?" She wondered, so he gave her what she wanted. "To be loved and to love, to feel the essence of beauty around me. You are the beauty one could tolerate forever, you are the love one could only hope for them forever."

The young woman who could not share her name, blushed a pretty rose on her cheeks and planted the same color peck on Troy's cheek. She approved the answer of the boy who courted her.

As they wandered, they conversed on matters that were personal to both of them, before the sunset fell to a dark sky. Sadly, Troy had to say bye to the young lady, and she spoke of meeting Troy once more.

Days passed, and Troy could not shake the enchantment by the young lady's charm and grace. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had to see her once more.

One dusk, when strolling near a cozy café, he noted a name on a flyer on the wall: "Stacy's Treats – homemade baked goods to take on your marry way."

A spark of remembrance came to Troy. He had once come to the very café, and the owner, known for her warm gestures and tasteful treats, was named Stacy. Troy's heart raced as he connected the dots between the café owner and the beauty of a woman he dreamed about, and could see as the woman he would one day marry.

He had to uncover the truth, and made way to the café. As he entered, the aroma of fresh baked goods greeted every sense, and he saw the face of the young women he loved at one glance beyond the counter.

"Hello, Stacy," Troy spoke softly.

She looked up, shocked. "You... you knew my name?"

Troy nodded. "Your name was on the flyer. Stacy’s treats could only be my top bakery store."

Stacy's eyes softened. "Yes, that's me. There was no secret of my bakery, but you had to know me for me, not just my name and my place of work."

Troy felt warm and more happy than ever before. "The small moments of when we met made you, you. But to know your name only adds to the sweetness that makes you the owner of Stacys Treats and the one of whom my heart could only love."

To Troy's great but wonderful shock, Stacy came around the counter and planted another love peck on each cheek.

From then on, Troy and Stacy went on to share many great moments at the café. Troy would often come to savor the treats Stacy crafted. They conversed and the bond between them grew deeper.

One perfect autumn afternoon, as they sat on the bench next to the café watching the golden leaves fall, Stacy turned to Troy.

"You know, Troy," she began, "Upon many thoughts of how we met, wouldn't you agree that names can carry a type of burden, and to truly know another person can only come from shared moments such as these?"

Troy reflected on her words; on the moments they had shared thus far. "My dear Stacy, what’s but a name, so sweet as the name Stacy, the last letter to only be wrote from henceforth as a y."