The Valerie.

A letter.

A simple letter, not even a letter.

But life.
Valerie's life.

And through this letter, she cries to me.


My face... is wet. Every inch, damp with tears. Tears that cannot be shed no more, tears that cry for no one.
But Valerie.

If it weren't for Valerie, my face... it would never be like this.

If not for Valerie, my heart would not be broken.

But I don't blame her.
Why would I blame her?

I love her.

I wish I could laugh with her.
Cry with her.
Smile for her.

Kiss her.

All she's wanted to do for those who have been touched by this story of her life.

As dangerous as it may be, even for me.

Someday, the world will grow roses. Everlasting roses, undying roses. Roses with such love. Love that even Valerie could never imagine.

How much I am going to obsess over Valerie's dying prayer, I will never know.

But there must be roses for everybody. A rose, at least, whether man or woman, child or elderly, good or evil, to let the world know that Valerie loves him or her.

And that I do too.