A love letter to Zoey
Bob, unsteady on his knee, nearly fell over in his nervousness, turning around abruptly in annoyance.
His classmate gestured and whispered, "The flowers, the flowers."
Bob smacked his forehead in frustration. He had been so focused on confessing that he forgot about the flowers. He held out the bouquet to Zoey: "126 flowers, your favorite number."
It was her birthday.
"What’s happening?" Jesse pulled a classmate aside to ask. The crowd was thick, making it hard to see.
"Bob is confessing," the classmate, unable to see the excitement, stood on a chair.
Sikat na Kabanata