Thorn

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It was unbelieveable. I was running late going to our next class when you called me. You shouted thorn. I was disgusted. My forehead creased and my brows met. I asked why you called me thorn when rose is really my name. You chuckingly answered that you know my name. I was startled and deep inside, I was flattered. I suddenly felt that my cheeks was turning rosy. I cocked my head as soon as I regained my composure and asked why you called me only to know that you just forgot to return the notebook you borrowed. I sheepishly smiled and turned my back on you. As i was browsing my notes, I saw something on the last page. There was a message; a flower with a sweet smell that is usually white, yellow, red or pink and that grows on a bush which has thorns on the stem. I foolishly smiled. You called me thorn because I am rose.

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