“Footfalls echo in the memory,
Down the passage which we did not take,
Towards the door we never opened into the rose garden.” T. S. Eliot
A single rose was left on the nightstand, a note propped up besides it. “Meet me in the gardens at the end of the day. – Signed”
No name was added, but she knew the notes author – their presence still lingered from the previous night. She picked up the rose, holding it between her thumb and forefinger, and tapped it against her chin.
There was a sea foam colored grown hanging in front of the closet, its soft satin enticing to the touch. She smiled. She only had to wait until tonight.
Shot on location at: Anarchist Keys