Rose, It was the colour of her cheeks as she smiled. The colour of her glossy lips, as if they had just been kissed. The colour of that ugly knitted cardigan that hung onto her shoulders as she laughed and ran around like a little child. It was the colour of her room, the pink covering her bedspread, the walls, her curtains. It was the flower that sat in the small vase next to her bed, replaced every morning by the unknown person who left them on her porch. Rose, it was a beautiful colour. She was beautiful, She was Rose.
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