Roses

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Roses

A flower, a name, a sign of delicacy. But not without its safe keepers. It's thorns, which are highly prickly.

Life, like a rose, seems beautiful from the outside but once you get to know it, the hardships makes your heart bleed, just the way thorns prick sensitive flesh of fingers.

A rose oozes out the aura of gentleness, inviting passerbyes to inhale its lovely scent, attracting insects, helping them keep their lives running.

It even marks the level of closeness, the height of a relationship between two people.

White rose indicates peace and purity. While black holds authority over boldness and grace. Yellow is the sign of friendship. Pink marks innocence and beauty. While a red one yells love and lust.

They help people deliver their feelings to their loved ones.

Emily, a nineteen year old blonde, didn't know how to tell Caleb her feelings. How to make his childhood best friend see that he was not just a friend to her. He had become more than a friend to her. She had no idea when her feelings towards the handsome brunette changed, but one thing she was sure about was what she felt for him would never change.

She told herself that she had to do something about it. She had to make him see her as a girl. Not just a friend.

On friendships day, every year as per the tradition, they excahged yellow flowers as a sign of acceptance of their friendship. This year, however, yellow won't be the color, she decided.

The day of announcement came. She had thought about it for the past few days and was happy with her decision of telling the truth.

As Caleb came into view, her heart started hammering in her ribs, she was certain that the ants circling the pathway she was standing on were able to hear the frantic beating of her heart.

She said hello to him, he smiled and did the same and presented her with his choice of flowers. A sharp intake of breath was heard from her and he chuckled nervously as he bent down on his knee and held her hand pressing into her hands, a bouquet of roses. Not yellow, not pink, neither white nor black. But velvety red roses.

The thorns pricked both of their hands but they didn't seem to care. She gaped at him and presented him with the red ones of her own.

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