special occasion.
I called him.
The phone rang until voicemail answered.
I sent a message.
“Did you send me flowers?”
No reply.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
The bouquet no longer looked romantic. It appeared strangely deliberate, almost as though it had been placed in my home for a reason.
I walked around the table, studying the arrangement. The roses had been organised into ten precise rows of ten.
Near the centre, several flowers sat lower than the others.
I leaned closer.
One rose had a tiny red stain hidden
