Here is the most special rose under the sun

17 years old, petals with the age of rain, in the spring breeze slightly red crisp face.

In the class of laughter, he bowed his head embarrassed to sit down, the corner of his eye, but gently, sprinkled on her body - others laugh, he does not care, only her, even a disdain, as long as she can look at him, he is satisfied.

But he could only grieve, silently. Because even then, he couldn't get her attention.

There was rain outside the window, but he could not see it, the rain ran down the glass, like a gurgling stream, no end, blurring the world.

In her world, perhaps, there will never be him.

And the young heart, is not willing, so rest. He reached out to his side, and a bunch of gorgeous flowers bloomed in his hand. In the season of this flower, even the wind in the breath, also has the intoxication of drowning.

February 14, in the past sixteen years, has been such an ordinary day. But in his seventeenth year, he put someone in his heart.

Therefore, the plain, becomes different; The ordinary becomes special; Sad, become depressed.

The flowers in the shop smiled so sweetly, but he could only look at them depressingly, watching helplessly as they were taken away in bundles. His sleeping lover, how he could wake her up.

He worked for the florist and sent them away in bunches; Seeing the smiling face in front of the flower, he smiled as if he saw her.

From the east end of the city, all the way to the west, riding a bicycle, sending the gift of love. He began to sing, sweetly, and the bike creaked with his voice. In the warm and cold season, the people of the city on this day, see a young boy, shuttling forward in the rain.

In front of him, behind him, are flowers, how beautiful flower buds, along the way with him, in full bloom in the spring.

What an infatuated boy, his girlfriend must be very happy. He blushed when he heard it. In the flower, he sent, not his flowers, but his love.

Ninety-nine bunches of flowers were sent, some large, some small, some expensive and some cheap. But no matter what, nothing can compare to the 100th bouquet he will send to her.

That is what a bunch of flowers ah, colorful, delicate and beautiful. In the dark, he asked his boss to help him wrap the shop's last piece of wrapping paper.

The wrapping paper is yours, young man. The boss smiled at him.

His heart was full of gratitude, and in this day, there was too much excitement to say.

Her door was closed, and he could not bear to wake her. Hesitating, hesitating, he still put the flowers quietly at the door of her house. As he left, he glanced at his flowers. Oh, no, her flowers.

He said goodbye to it.

He said goodbye to her.

Tomorrow will begin to prepare for the college entrance examination, poor, he can no longer put his heart outside the book. His parents long for the eyes ah, let him not look.

The next day she sat quietly in the classroom as usual, except for a moment when she said something that made him smile.

What florist in the city sells flowers that fresh?

Yes, the flowers he sent her were very fresh, because every time he sent a bunch of flowers, he asked the owner to send him one. He tied the flowers he had received into a bunch that became the flowers he had sent her.

None is alike. There really is no such a bunch of flowers, because in each one, there is a love.