Short Stories

The roses were deep red all 11 of them. Each perfect. They were the most beautiful things I have ever seen. There scent overwhelmed me. No one had ever given me flowers.

My hand reached for the card, eager to find out who had sent them. But I turned it over only to find that it was blank.

Disappointment ran though me. I wanted so badly to know who sent them. My thoughts wondered to my best friend who I have loved since grade 7.

I loved everything about him. The way he could cheer me up when no one else could, the way he smiled, the way he would write with his left hand and hold a fork with his right. I love the way he talks and the way he walks and how he always waits for me at lunch and after school.

I waited. Wishing the roses would tell me who had sent them, when a voice came from behind me.

“They forgot this one.”

I spun to see him. My best friend with a single rose in his hand.

“You sent them?” I asked shocked.

“Yes.” He said moving closer. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

I could feel my cheeks heating up, as I closed the space between us. He handed me the rose. Now I had 12 stunning roses.

“Thank-you.” I said leaning in to kiss him. His lips tasted as sweet as the roses smelt.