"

If the rose puzzled its mind over the question of how it grew, it would not have been the miracle that it is. " -

J. B. Yeats

Katrina walked into her room and kicked off her shoes. They were not that high but they had exhausted her nonetheless. She debated on first taking a bath or not but her curiosity prevailed and in the end, she ended up sitting down with the white envelope in her hands. As she propped her back against the chaise's white backrest, Katrina tore the ...