The roses you bought me are starting to droop.
It’s the early hours of February 15th, you brought me them yesterday afternoon.
I put them in my Nanas old vase, filled with water, almost immediately.
They shouldn’t be dying yet.
Maybe tomorrow, but not today.
Less than 12 hours, and already they’re leaving.
The roses you bought me are wilting.
The red petals are curling in on themselves, and I don...