Jemma plucked the daffodil out of the vase of flowers. She wondered who the mystery person was that had left the vase at her doorstep. There was no note or any indication of where the flowers had come from. She ran through a list of her friends in her mind. None of them knew that she liked daffodils. She had never told anyone. And, yet, there was a perfect daffodil in the middle of the vase surrounded by baby’s breath, Queen Anne’s Lace, and Delphinium.
A soft knock at her front door awakened her from her reveries. A young man, barely out of his teens, she guessed, stood in front of her. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice quavering.
“Yes?”
“I’m so sorry. I think I delivered some flowers to your door by accident. They were supposed to go to one of your neighbors a floor above yours.”
Jemma closed her eyes. She allowed her fantasies of a mystery lover to take over for a moment longer, and then retrieved the vase, carefully adding the daffodil back into the center. With a sigh, she handed the vase to the young man. Someday, she will be wooed by a mystery lover.

Written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt – Daffodil.













