So here's the situation, I "received" a rose from a stranger but it is both mine and not mine. It is, in it's own right, a Schrödinger situation. Valentine's Day, a day I admit I dreaded a bit but have prepared myself enough to go through. I had just entered the room wherein I were to take my last class of the day then, I notice a single pale, pink rose lying on my table. Its stalk was rather short, compared to the ones I've seen around campus. And, there's no note. My friend, who sat beside me, also had one lying on her desk but hers was red and had a different wrapping. Seeing hers, I immediately assumed that it might've been from one of our mutual friends-- the same exact friend who has already ruined the surprise by informing us the previous day that he was going to send us flowers, that which I refused and expressly told him that he could save his money by not sending me any. So, I went through class, not questioning it further. Besides, who else would send me a flower? For anything, there are a very limited number of people who knew both the timing and location of my classes. They were my block class, that guy friend, and possibly one of my orgs (though the schedule that i sent them didn't contain my classroom numbers but technically if one is crafty, they could cross-reference it to the schedule of my blockmate who is also a member of the same org). Then came dismissals and luckily enough, we ran into that guy friend in the halls. The first thing I asked him was why he sent me a flower despite me telling him that he didn't have to, and that anyways, I was grateful. That's when he looked at me, confused, and with a deadpan face, said, "I didn't send you any flowers because you asked me not to." At that point, another friend of mine, started "ooooh-ing" and pointed out the possibility of a secret admirer. I, on the other hand, was thoroughly confused and could not think of any other explanation for the situation other than that guy friend to be lying and was actually the one who sent the flower even though he insists that he didn't. And it was a few moments after that when he said this: "Maybe, the person from the previous class who sat in your seat left that. or maybe, the delivery for that flower for that person came when he/she wasn't there and so nobody was able to receive it." Like dude, my man, why do you have to hurt me this way? That statement over there methodically struck down and burnt my very daintily-numbered self-esteem to smithereens like a cartoon man holding an umbrella up during a rainstorm. That statement effectively pierced through the mental shield I very carefully prepared especially for Valentine's Day with the ease of a warm knife through butter. And with that, so it stands, the mystery of this pale, pink rose. I don't know who sent it, and neither do I know for whom. Will I ever know? I'm yet to find out. All I know is that since I kept it anyways, it is both mine and not mine. It was both meant for me and not. It was both sent to me and not. It is Schrödinger's rose. It is No One's rose. . . . I'm intrigued.
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