As the hour clicked away,
Professor Augustine made himself up
to the classroom. His perfect timing
always amazed me because he would
always save himself exactly two minutes
before the class ended just so he can
turn around, face the entire class, and give
a single nod—it's time for you to grab your
things and leave.
Charlie swiped his journals into his
shoulder bag, and walked over to me.
"Here's t-the list." He had folded
the paper in between his index and
middle finger, holding it so cunningly.
"Thank you, Charlie." I reached over
for the list and he gave me a small smirk.
"T-Tell me what y-you think of it." He
adjusted the strap of the shoulder bag.
"Will do," I beamed back and tucked
my braided hair behind my ear. He quickly
turned the other way to leave but stopped
and came back to my desk.
"Rose?"
"Yes?"
"I want to help you find your biological parents."
I froze in my place, and my fingertips
dropped the piece of paper onto the wooden
desk. My palm touched the cold desk to
make some sort of temperature touch my
paralyzed soul.
"Rose? Are y-you okay?" He furrowed his
eyebrows.
"Uh, yeah, you just caught me off
guard. Maybe, I don't know, Charlie. I don't
want to change what I have."
"Ju-Just a suggestion. S-Sorry, I-I d-didn't
m-mean t-to." His voice cracked under
the pressure of innocent aid.
"Rose, Charlie, I think you two are
forgetting the time." Professor Augustine
pursed his lips from his large desk.
"Oh, sorry Professor, we're on our
way. Charlie, I'll text you," I picked up the piece
of paper and brushed gently passed
him.
YOU ARE READING
shades of red
Poetrywhen you have too many thorns, all you can do is paint them in red, because, maybe then, they will look like petals [sequel to shades of blue]
