I look over at my desk and I see a single red rose in a slender glass vase resting on its top. Its been so long since I've seen a rose. Who is it from...I can't remember. After work, at the bar, David, the bartender said that I wasn't too shabby. Rebecca leaned over her rum and coke and said, while giggling, you know what that means don'cha, Meg? Truth is, is that I really don't. Love and shabbiness, whats the difference? It all sounds the same to me. Could you, the rose man, promise me that I will know the difference this time? I want you, and I don't know what to think about that. It scares me to think that some symbolince of love could erupt in my heart. I could hate you for making me love you.Birth sign: Not entered
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