I followed the trail to the backyard, where I met with my lover. She was mute the whole time. She sat there in a position of regret or depression; head hanging down, body slumped, arms covering her eyes. But there was a note under her shoe.
I picked up the napkin and began to unfold it. All it said in bold, black pen was "My love, you've forgotten. Every rose has it's thorn." And at first I didn't get it, but then as I backed up, I saw the backyard covered in wilted roses, pointing towards my loved one.
And that's when I remembered.
Every Rose has its thorn. And the thorns always outnumber the rose.
YOU ARE READING
Rose: A Short Story
RomanceThis is a short story I wrote. There's going to be a lot of comparisons. This is solely a piece of writing brought up by my own mind, oddly inspired by a rose I saw days ago. This does not reflect my real life, it was simply experimental. Enjoy!
