A/N: Okay, I wrote this a very long time ago - July 2003. It's not my best work, but I liked it. I got a few flames for it, but that's okay. I'm gonna post it up again and see what people's opinions are this time around. Hopefully, I'll get more of them. If you don't like it, you can honestly tell me. It won't hurt my feelings (even if you're my friend). Thanks.

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She walks by him with a single white rose in her hand. When she turned to face him, he ignored her and saw right past her. Tears seemed to form in her beautiful blue eyes. When he noticed it he sweetly smiled at her. But it was too late. She had already turned back and ran the other way.

The next week when he got home from work, he threw his set of keys on the table by the front door and got a can of soda out of his gigantic refrigerator. After getting comfortable on his black leather couch, he grabbed the remote controller and turned the television on the news channel.

"A woman in her twenties from a small little town called 'Crudell' committed suicide last night. Her petrified neighbor says that she was just checking up on her because she hadn't seen her in days. When she walked into the living room and called for the victim, there was no reply. So she rushed to her bedroom and found her lying on the floor dead. There was a gun nearby and she was holding a white rose in her hand."

He couldn't watch any more of it. He knew it was her. It had to be her. The single white rose. If only he had the courage to talk to her. If only he had the courage to tell her how deeply he felt for her. If only she knew how much he loved her. If only...