Rosa Mori

Author's Note: I don't really like this story but it's my first step to get back into writing again... so constructive criticism is always appreciated!!! Rosa Mori is Latin for 'dying rose' which you would later make sense of towards the end :) Thank you to Ruth for helping me fix my grammatical errors!

We were moving again. My dad had left us to confinement within the empty barriers of that cold, unforgiving room. That room bound me through its dead walls, walls that lay a pale grey as those suitcases were ready to be piled again.

The tuft of unruly mundane brown hair found itself tucked behind my reddened ears, careless and lazy, like my brandished soul. Fumbling through my winter coat, I grasped upon my splinted car keys, a metallic red keychain symbolized as a dying heart that lay helplessly, dangling by the rusted copper keys.

Locking the door behind as mom cleared away the rest of the empty storage boxes, I slipped into my car, my jolting head ducking its dented red frames, sided with smoky grey. Dirt cracked nails drumming against the tarnished wheel of my beat Honda. The radio recently instilled rambled away as I looked into the rearview mirror, examining any smudged mascara that had gone wrong this morning.

Thudding the break with a reflexed foot, I switched at the keyhole that lay filth driven through the splintering decay of the key. I tucked the plastic folder full of overflooding math worksheets under my heavy-hearted arms. I slipped into the brightly lit room; my eyes scanned for a vacant spot within a bustling crowd. They went about their business; without consideration of my existence. It made me wonder how everyone's life could attain such normality: the same schedule, the same routine while mine had to change constantly, trying to fit into the fantasies of mom-- although it was hard to.

I plopped down into the far corner of the cafe's tables, pulled over the bright floral printed mask over my chilled face, honeysuckle eyes prying at the entrance, waiting for Darby to promenade in with Mrs Wright striding behind her only daughter. And she did, through the streaking sunlight, the two came inside, abandoning the scrawly streets.

"Debbie! I thought this was class cancelled--cause you're moving!", the 10-year-old looked in amusement, a splatter of ebony freckles clouding over the bridge of her nose as she smiled, her crumpled chipped tooth outshining the rest gleefully. I smiled, outpouring warmth elongated from within as I pinched her nose in an attempt to feel like the best tutor in the world. Mrs Wright kept her smile stern, shoving a 50 onto the glossed oak table.

"This lesson and the other two lessons are covered. Since you'd be moving soon, Deborah, I decided to add a ten", she muttered before she strode out to her expensive car that waited patiently.

A content sigh escaped from my lips, wispy with sharp intakes of unnecessary breaths. I slipped the 50 into my purse before turning back to the grinning girl in front.

"Okay, do you want to start with Math or English first?" I pulled out my pencil case and clicked at the pen lamely.

"Math, the worst should be the first." she goes on, her eyes drawn to her worksheets with scrawly handwriting that had been gone over with rushed cursive scribbles in inky red.

"Wait, I'll get something for you to drink," I called, dusting off at any non-existent crumbs at my overly loose denim jeans that screamed with the worst fashion sense, paired up with a baggy green turtleneck and thick-framed glasses.

My hands swiped over to the counter, hands gently going over to the blunt silver to eject a sharp mimicking screech that fell to deaf ears of the young girl at the counter whose hair swept into a neat silky black bun with strands that fell against her powdered cheeks.

She looked up, bright-eyed, face full of recognition as I was a usual customer. Every Monday evening, Wednesday afternoon, and Saturday morning, I came in to tutor Darby. As expected, I had become acquaintances with most of the staff.

"Oh, uh... Chloe! Pumpkin Spice Latte as usual for me and--for Darby, of course, orange juice would do." I grinned, slipping 5 dollars over the counter.

"Sure! Uh, we've lowered the price down, so it'll be $3.45",

"Oh! Okay. Just keep the change then", I smiled before returning to the distinctively disorganized table.

"Messy aesthetics?" I raised a brow before I slipped into my seat. I went on to mark the sheet put forth by Darby; her forehead scrunched into concentration. Perseverance was the girl's middle name she said after learning the meaning of her new spelling word.

"You wanna move onto English now, Darbs? Since you've finished your math?" I said. I handed back her marked sheets, gone over in splotches of red cursives and illusionary numbers.

"Hmm? Sure! I don't think I have any questions!" she beamed, shoving the rest of her slovenly math into the pits of her overflowing bag that lay imprinted with ebony zebra markings against the hot pink background, patched with remnants of debris. Inside, crumpled sheets sank to the bottom in a fury of impatient hands who didn't seem to care where her hard work had flooded to its ends.

I handed out to her a new list of spelling words as the steamy drink arrived, the drink cooling beneath the milky white cream and bubbling foam that lay decorated with a sift of crushed cinnamon. It was nothing special, but my favourite out of the menu.

Darby took her interest in the brimming glass of orange juice before taking a benevolent sip, too large for her mouth to withstand the trickles of salivated orange juice that ran down her chin. The ignorant girl took no notice of this.

"Okay... let's try this word out!" I smiled, clicking a mechanical pencil for Darby to use as she stared at her snapped one.

"Uh... I-R-E-G-A-R-D-L-E-S", she uttered, her pale eyes squeezed into fistfuls of tightly wrapped skin.

"Oh! Nice try but, it's wrong. Ir-re-gard-less. Try again!",

"I-R-E-G-A-R-D-L-E-S-S! Did I do it?" her eyes glinted upon me.

"That was better, but it is, I-R-R-E-G-A-R-D-L-E-S-S! You forgot the double 'R', that's all!" I patted her shoulder before taking a milky sip out of the cup that sat, filled to the very top.

My eyes skimmed over to the ticking clock that sounded quietly. Everyone sat unaware of the time. Wednesday afternoons always had the least amount of time, probably because Darby would have another class after this. I assumed it was piano lessons.

"C'mon, your mom will be here soon, and I have to get home to help finish packing! Wait here and tidy your spot. Finish your juice!" I told her while I took my latte to the counter.

"Hey, Nina! Would you mind putting my drink in a paper cup?" I have to get going!" I looked over, neck-craning, to see the girl bringing over a paper cup projecting a green aura of painted leaves, pouring the rest of it skillfully with ease.

"Here you go, girl! Have a great time in-- what's that place called again?" she chuckled. Nina was a pit full of laughter and smiles, flaunting with positive vibes.

"Pennsylvania, Thanks!" I smiled, grabbing the cup and returning to my table to put away my folders.

A burly man with an exotic fiery red moustache and deep green eyes who deemed to look like I had seen him my whole childhood had left a receipt before me it was scooped into my adorned hands, spiking with dirt. 'Barny Beans" was labelled carefully at the top in carefully typed fonts in cursive.

"Um, thank you, sir!" I called out, shoving the receipt into my coat's pocket, grabbing my tote, and placing out a pleased pile of notes at the tip.

"Do you want to wait outside?" I looked at Darby. She pulled a chunky beanie over her head, grimacing at the fact that she needed to wear it.

The wind hit against my pale winter struck face, numbing me of most of my embellishing senses. Stuffing my hands into my pocket, I felt my hand go against something crisp, something new, like paper, not thin like the receipt. Pulling it out, I realised it was an envelope that had trailed into my pocket while I stashed away the tinted bills.

I flipped it onto its conjoining side, to see neat cursives, labelled to the irony of my name, "Debbie, my darling" although I had no lover and within was a rose, my favourite deep red rose... but it was dying... gently succumbing...