She came late at night, with a dozen roses and a bucket of water.
At first, one can assume the water was for the roses. A bucket is an odd choice, but what else could she have it for?
I didn’t ask right away, as it was so late. I had to be up early. She had to be up early. I let her in and I rubbed my eyes dry. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
She responded after a long pause and told me to follow her upstairs.
The water shook with her steps. A trail of water was left behind. At this hour, I couldn’t find the energy to complain. So I didn’t. We sat on my bed and she handed me the flowers. I soon realized the flowers were the exact same ones I had given her three weeks ago. See, three weeks ago was our four-year anniversary of dating. Naturally, I got her flowers — It’s what she expected. It’s what everyone expects.
“Are these the same flowers?” She nodded yes. “But how? How are they still so fresh?” I asked.
She replied, “It’s in the water.”
(Sometimes I write short fictional stories with no real ending)
Always be writing.