The florist was called Delia. She was beautiful, with those dimples on her cheeks and those crinkles by her eyes. She reminded me of you, only she was an elderly woman, with the age of around seventy or so.
We needed a flower of some sorts for the Science experiment tomorrow. It appeared as though you were in need of catching up on many practicals from last term. I did sometimes wonder why you failed to pay attention in class when the teacher was explaining everything in intricate amounts of details in the first place. But I do believe that you had your reasons. I must not let anger consume me on a day like today, a petite day like today.
I chose a white rose, pricked my thumb on one of its thorns and felt a tear run down my cheek; I sucked the blood clean.
I let you pay, frankly because the rose was not for me. It would never be for me.
But that's okay, dear. Who would want to bleed anyway?
Besides you.
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Can someone give me a white rose please? :)
-Muni
YOU ARE READING
Mosquito Bites
General FictionWhere two friends go on daily adventures, living life and conquering every little problem in their tiny worlds. A boy and a girl. Two souls intertwined in what lasts for just a few moments. Always alone but never on their own. Welcome to their bubb...
