I carefully plucked a small five petaled flower from the green grass and plopped down. I has seen my sister play with these flowers before, chanting "He love's me, He love's me not," and she'd always cry a little when she plucked the last petal and said "He love's me not. I mean why? If your going to cry about it why say it? I had seen many girls her age do the same thing, several times. A few day's ago I asked her what it was about and got the soft response of "Well, Ya' pluck the petal's saying "He love's me, He loves me not" and when you pluck the last petal and depending on what you say you find out what they think of you." I thought this was a load of shit, no way a flower could tell you if the person you like likes you too. I rose and eyebrow and asked whom she wanted to love her. "Ike Broflovski" She stated happily "But there is a rumor going around she like's this goth kid our age. But my Ike CAN'T be gay" I just shrugged as she went on and on about school drama and walked away. Of course she flipped me off.
I looked down at the yellow flower un my hand and slowly reached to pluck the first petal.
"He love's me" I said as I plucked it off. It was an obvious lie. He didn't love me at all. He never would, He may hate me though.
"He love's me not" I plucked the next petal. Ain't that the truth.
"He love's me" I plucked another.
"He love's me not" I plucked the next and smiled as I reached for the last.
"He love's me"
I knew he didn't really love me, this was just a childish game for little girls to play. But. . .who know's, maybe. . . he did love me back.