Now, I’d just say, “oh, that’s pretty.”

When I was in high school we used to have a program on Valentine’s day where people could anonymously send their crushes a red rose.

Needless to say, I never received one.

One year, a girl who sat in front of me in History received one, though.

Her eyes were bright as she walked into class and she held the rose high. She sat down and turned to me, beaming.

“Isn’t this pretty?” she gushed.

Peering at her over my book, I said, deadpan, “Roses die you know.”