I was well-known locally. Delilah Watkins, age 38, a single mother running a simple floral shop in downtown Washington. People knew me, of course, so why did I get a shiver down my spine when I read that letter?
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It was Monday, and I had dropped off my two-year-old Heaven at daycare before heading to work. I entered my floral store to find a letter on the desk. 'Watkins,' it read. I opened the letter which said:.
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"Dear Ms. Watkins,
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I am a fan of your work and your beauty. I admire how you treat the flowers with such care and greet your customers with kindness.
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I am writing to express my appreciation for your business and all that you do for this town.
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P.S. Do you have roses?"
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It was unsigned. It wasn't odd that I was complimented. I had many friends and always helped where I could. I always got waves and "Hey Delilah!"'s wherever I went but that last part.
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"Do you have roses?" I said aloud. If this person had been in, they would know I always had roses stocked. ALWAYS.
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I put the letter at the back of my mind before getting to work. I headed back to the stock to check what needed to be ordered for the upcoming week.
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And I saw it. All 50 roses I hand-marked with a name-brand bow were gone. It was odd, really odd. I shook my head, trying to get the thoughts out of my mind. It's fine. Perfectly normal, I mean, I just had a large sale yesterday., maybe my admirer had come in and saw we were out? Yes, that must be it. It's weird, though; I'm usually so attentive.
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Ibrushedh it off after thinking through hundreds of scenarios. I look at the clock and see it's time to go and pick up Heaven. At the daycare, the caretaker informed me that Heaven had run behind a bush and cut her neck.
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"Just wanted to let you know." I nodded and thanked her before leading Heaven into the car and driving away. Heaven loved to run around, so it wasn't abnormal that she decided to wander. When we arrived home, I saw her neck and looked at her cut. A tiny little scratch. I cooked dinner while Heaven babbled away.
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Later, as I tucked her in, I found a rose petal under her pillow. I thought nothing of it, assuming she had just taken one of the flowers while we were there together last week.
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I climbed into my bed andlayd down to sleep. Then I heard a crash. I checked the Clock. 1:00 AM, it ticked. I went to the living room and looked around. My great-grandmother's urn lay shattered on the floor. I checked to see if Heaven was still asleep. She was. So, what knocked the urn over? I hear a noise and turn to see a dark figure in my glass sliding door. I race to the door and lock it quickly, my heart racing. It seemed like a man.
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Suddenly, why he disappeared.
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"Am I dreaming?" I wondered aloud. I walked back to my room after getting myself a glass of milk. When I walked in, I saw something new. On my bed lay three roses with name-brand bows on them and a note.
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Dear Ms. Watkins,
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No, you're not.
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P.S. Do you like roses?
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