Penelope's POV

The flowers arrive at seven in the morning.

Three dozen red roses, their petals still fresh with morning dew. The delivery person looks apologetic as they hand me the massive bouquet. The card reads in neat script: "I'm sorry. Please let me explain. - L"

The smell is overwhelming. Cloying and too sweet but it makes my stomach turn.

I throw them in the dumpster behind my building. The thorns scratch my hands as I shove them down into the trash. I watch the red petals scatter ...