My Secret Admirer

Today, my secret admirer gave me flowers. Two synthetic roses. Everyone asked who they were from, and I told them quite happily. I skipped around the classroom in my awkward, jerky movements I make when clearly excited.

Then I ran off to find my secret admirer and tell him off. How dare he give me roses? The entire point of a secret admirer is that he's a secret! If he starts giving me flowers, then people will know who he is. If I let him give me flowers, the next step will be serenading me in the hallways! That simply will not do. How could he ever be so reckless and exceedingly bold?

Or, maybe, I am sad. Maybe I went to class and saw my friend had forgotten the flowers her boyfriend gave her. Maybe I skipped around to go find her and return them. Maybe I just found the idea of someone giving me flowers quite exhilarating. Maybe I have wanted a boy to give me flowers ever since seventh grade.

But, that's only maybe.

Maybe, someday, a boy will really give me flowers. Not a secret admirer, or a fallacy, but a real boy who really likes me. Maybe he'll give me real flowers; like sunflowers, tulips, or maybe even roses. Maybe I'll be able to walk around with the flowers all day and feel significant. Maybe he'll give me flowers more than once, but not so often it's not special. Maybe it will be wonderful, or it could be terrible.

Maybe the flowers would wilt. Maybe I would drop them and they would be ruined, or someone would bump into me and crush them. Maybe he would look at the flowers and look at me and think I'm not very wonderful anymore. Maybe I will have forgotten to take my allergy medicine, like I did today, and the flowers will make me unhappy. Maybe, no one will ever give me flowers.

But, maybe it could be wonderful.

But, that's only maybe.