Diary of a Beautiful Person

A girl who sees things that other people don't usually see. She tries to understand the language of the world and in her journey she falls in love, meet new interesting people, and try to find the meaning of life

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1. The Rose

April 15, 2011

 

            My mother told me  that I was the most beautiful person in the world. We were sitting in a cafe at the end of a lonely street. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The trees were swaying gently in the breeze, the sun was at its peak in the sky, and a single rose was blooming across the street. As we ordered coffee, I couldn't help but to stare at the beauty of its white petals.

           " What are you staring at Danielle?" My mom took the cofee from the waitress. She stired her drink slowly, still focusing on her crossword puzzle. I was surprised she even looked my direction.

          " At the most beautiful thing in the world," I said, exhaling deeply. I looked at my coffee. It was brown, murky. It looked as if someone dumped a whole load of mud in it and added a bit of milk. I still thought it was beautiful. Coffee doesn't have harsh thorns that hurt you if swallow it. It makes you feel warm inside.

           "You are the most beautiful person in the world." My mom touched my hand and gave me a slight smile.

             I grinned. "Do you really think so?"

             My mom payed the waitress. "Yes, I do. Are you ready to go?" We grabbed our belongings and stepped outside, embracing the wind. It had suddenly become harsh, whipping the hat off my head.

             I ran off to get it, leading me closer to the beautiful rose. I found my hat resting in front of it. Something didn't seem right. I got down on my knees and took a closer look. I blinked twice. Now I know why. This rose was not the same rose that I saw across the cafe. This rose was the color of death, with crimson decorating its falling petals.

           I heard the sqeeling of tire wheels, screams. Someone was sobbing. Police cars coming closer, the sirens unbearably loud.

            "I didn't see anything!"

            " Poor woman!"

          " The driver drove off! An idiot! A killer!

          " Right in front of the cafe!"

          " We need an ambulance! She's bleeding badly here!"

           The rose was dead. Turned into ash. I gathered  my courage and turned my head around. All that I saw was a spilled container of coffee, an unfinished crossword puzzle, and a body surrounded by black roses.

 

       

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