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Weekly Contest #359
The letters came unexpectedly, and I wasn't originally aware they were meant for me. One afternoon, my mother had been tending to her flowers -- a mixture of daisies, buttercups, and marigolds -- and when she'd finished, she'd come in with her gardening tools gripped within one gloved hand and a thin slip of paper in the other. I was making my way to the living room when she'd stopped me. "Lily, is this yours?" Had it not been for the string wound singularly around the paper -- to keep it folded, I'd supposed -- I might have considered that ...
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