Yvonne Finley stared at the bouquet of roses.
She went over and crouched down; it was a large bunch, with a note on top, left by the courier: "Miss Finley, this bouquet was ordered for you by Mr. Caleb Baker yesterday. It was scheduled for delivery at nine o'clock this morning. There was nobody home, and after waiting for twenty minutes, we left it with your property management. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Perhaps it had been left for too long.
Or maybe it had been touched, even roughly handled, by someone passing by.
A few rose petals had fallen off. Despite the charm it still possessed, the bouquet showed signs of disarray.
Yvonne Finley stared at the rose bouquet with a somber gaze.
