The Pink Rose

I gave her a pink rose. She smiled and thanked me and put the rose to her nose and smelled the rose. It must have smelled good, because she opened her mouth as though to smell through her mouth as well. My mother always told me that I shouldn’t make too many funny faces in the mirror or my face would get trapped in a funny face and I would never be able to change it and I would ruin my life. But I never thought it could happen to her. She smelled and smelled and her mouth opened wider and wider. She plunged her nose into the rose and her tongue came out as though to taste the air around it. I wanted to talk to her. But her mouth was open so wide she could have fit the rose into her mouth and swallowed it. And I waited for her mouth to close and her to remember that I was there, and that a rose is just a rose. But her eyes became red and a tear fell from one of them and rolled down her cheek. And then finally she looked at me, her face frozen and open wide, and she said, I canah claha hmy hauch. I canah claugh ha haugh.