She was pleasantly surprised to return home mid-afternoon on a Saturday from a round of errands to find a huge bouquet of spring flowers blocking entrance to her apartment. The building manager, Debra immediately thought, must have let them in. After opening the door to her suite, her arms full of three bags of groceries, two suits and a dress and her mail that she had forgotten to collect yesterday, she carefully worked her way around the flowers leaning partially against the wall. When the bags and envelopes had been deposited on the kitchen counter and the dry cleaning hung temporarily in the front closet, she returned to the hallway to collect the bouquet.
Her step lighter than it had been since she had first gotten out of bed that morning, Debra felt her breath quicken and hope rise inside her like a helium balloon. But as she picked up the flowers, the cellophane crinkling enticingly at her touch, she noticed there was no card. In fact, it gradually registered, there was no identifying clue of any kind, not even the name of florist who had delivered them. While secret admirers were so appealing when watching chick flicks, Debra had to admit to herself that in real life not knowing who had sent the beautiful bouquet unnerved her just little.
Bouquet – Fragment #51