Every Wednesday, regular as clockwise, she received a bouquet – always from a different vendor, always paid for in cash. The accompanying notes were invariably clipped and enigmatic: ‘Soon,’ ‘Barely contained,’ and ‘Bursting with love.’
The radiant glow of a secret admirer quickly ascended through alarm and then angst as the messages morphed into possessive missives: ‘Claim you,’ ‘No one else but me,’ and ‘Destiny will not be denied.’
Nothing tied her to the shabby apartment. She made the decision to move out of harm’s way.
A few days later her possessions were stacked neatly in labelled boxes.
Next to the boxes – a bouquet and a note: ‘I took the liberty…’
Written for: Friday Fictioneers