On my daily commute to work, right outside my apartment complex, I noticed a rose-tinted flower in the dark muddy waters of the street. The feeling of death arose for me but with perfect posture standing straight up aligned with the sun and the moon like a young catholic boy trying not to fall asleep during Sunday service, its petals with not even a droplet of mud preserving the horrific beauty stood me wrong. I never really paid the flower much attention because I assumed the flower would eventually get swept away by the vengeful incoming spring showers or get stomped by a stampede of kids, But I attested wrong.I continue my commute to work and I hear a sharp ringing noise come from my jacket pocket I put my shaky hands in my black leather jacket and begin to pull out my dirty cracked iPhone 11 with the slick black screen turning white and displaying "OK"  "sent an image"  my impressionable ego-driven mind begins to race and wonder why she's texting me I slide my screen up and open my phone without even a hesitation I pull my pale finger to the Messages app and open its a single image of a meme displayed with the depiction of 2 gay people kissing and saying you and your homies. I instantly heard the message without knowing what to say next to my anxious heart and mind begin to race but my mind and heart settle very quickly once  I start to rationalize about the reason she could be texting me. There are only so many reasons  I could think of so  I boil it down she's just texting me to be friendly. then switching the decision in my head 1000 times over like a high school girl trying to pick an outfit for the day. I still question my final decision as I continue my commute to work. The messages haunt me in a good way with each step I take new unanswered questions and each breath is another chance to wonder about the meaning of a single action and gives me hope. With the thoughts of her out of my head, my tired body reaches the gold and grey jailed bars of the entry of my workplace and a huge cast shadow towering over me like the file tower a feeling I know oh too well begins to come over me as I look to the sun and see the hundreds and thousands and windows attached to the building and out of all of them  I wonder which oner you're in. I walk through the black revolving door with see-through windows and step on the multi-colored Hispanic tile on the floor and the smells of the first-floor rush through my sends coffee and old people are what you can usually smell but on Fridays, you can smell happy faces and cake. I run to the elevator with stained grey doors and click the up arrow the elevator comes very quickly considering I barely make it on time everyone is already working so the elevators are already clear the I arrive on the 35th floor and I look around as to scan the room and see my cubical I speed walk across the red carpet take my seat ad to begin my work picking up and putting down the phone for hours once break hits I dash towards the cooler room through all of the coworkers there faces blurring as I run to get my lunch I left yesterday in the fridge with  not a thought in my head but food until I see her. by the water cooler every time I look at her my eyes explode, like a box of Chinese fireworks colors hues un-seeable to the human eye  all over the room my feelings and thoughts splattered against the wall but none of the colors match your cracked pink-tinted lips that bring out your dirt-colored eyes or the light that dances on your jet black spirals that drape from your head over your dark forehead. your figure is short and long staggered and anguished. His coffee eyes and light skin stay in place well his brown coily hair fails on his back his tight white t-shirt shows his manly figure and the wale his chubby but thin body hovers above me we exchange glances but I look away as not to be seen as weird. He heads straight for the fridge as though it's his last meal and ignores me I wish he would give me the time of day. I head back to the workroom after leaving the water cooler and sit down and the cubical and beign to think why can't I get through to him I try so hard yet get so little out of him if I could I would just tell him but he hasn't noticed by now. the workday ends I walk out of those same jailed bars gold and grey I look up to wonder where he might be and which window is he in BOOM!!!!!! splash!!!! I fall into the street into the muddy water. In anger and fright, I ask what the hell was that. I see him looking down at me with his unique and beautiful smile wet and tattered clothes he still offers me his upheld hand. he asks "are you ok amarr " I reach out and our hands touch the ground begin to shake and then begin to crack into a huge circle around us the world goes dark and a spotlight is put upon me and my beloved his rose-tinted cheeks and haying grin pulls me up onto my feet literally and metaphorically. the rage of human touch and emotion pulling me closer into his bubble. her fright her smile her demeanor all fold into a beautiful bud where the flower blooms in the middle of the street in the middle of the place I come to dread every morning a beautiful flower has blossomed right in front of my eyes it's black pedals pushing outwards its coily black tips its dark cat-like figure forming all in front of me I was wrong I thought the flower I had seen that morning might be washed away by the spring or stomped on but  was laying right in front of me in the same spot where I paid it no attention standing tall even through the muddy water
