Out of all the flowers to put on my grave, why red roses? Anyone who knew me, knew i hated red roses. They were sooo over rated, but yet still here was some douche putting red roses on my grave. I leaned in close to try to get a look at him. he had on a black trench coat with a the collar sticking up. Black tailored pants that were made to fit him like a second skin and a pair of black dress shoes with silver on the tips. I remembered something about sliver tipped shoes before i died, but what? I guess it didn't matter much, with me being dead and all. Maybe that's how this death stuff works, some things you remember and others you don't. I remember my family and friends, most of them were here now. My father was holding my mother as cried into his arms. My best-friend Karla sat next to them handing my father a tissue to clean my mother's face. She was always the strong one. I watched as tear slid past her big framed sun-glasses and i felt my heart break. We had been the best of friends since we were six, when she stood up to a bully who was picking on me. Karla was the friendly, out-going type. I on the other hand was more of the stay at home and read a book type, until recently when i thought it would be a good idea to be more adventurous. Look what good that got me, now i'm dead. I turned my attention back to the douche with the sliver tip shoes, just as he stood to turn and leave. Then it hit me, this sliver tipped, red rose giving jerk was why I was dead it the first place!