It started appearing on the very day of my birthday, just weeks after the school year began. There, it lay on my table, a beautiful pink rose that looked like it was freshly grown from a beautiful flower garden. The stem was tied with a white ribbon and written on it was my name, Madeline. All I could feel at that time was the warmth of my blood rushing through my veins. I remembered it perfectly.
It’s already March and there are only a few months left to end the school year. Amazingly, I still receive the same peculiar rose every single day, but still have no clue who this peculiar person is.
The Peculiar Rose: One shot
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