He took my forearm in his hand, rotating it so he could get a better view of the flower etched into my wrist. "So, why a black rose?" He asked, taking in the dark, fresh tattoo. "It symbolizes death." His eyes shot up to mine, he immediately felt sorry for me. "I-I'm sorry. Who did you lose? They must have meant a lot to you." His words were kind and soft, he was attempting to comfort me. It made me want to laugh. I pulled my arm from his warm hands and fixed my sleeve, covering the fresh ink. Nodding, my eyes met him once again. "Myself."