PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson Each year, on the anniversary of your disappearance, a red rose appears.
It's funny. The house is locked. No windows are left open. The fire is lit in the fireplace. And yet. Every year. Without fail. One red rose.
Even odder… if I can put it that way, there is dust on the floor in front of my closet.
And I swear, in my sleep, I hear bells tinkling.
I don't know what to make of it.
I'd much rather see your face. I wonder, will you one day return to me? Oh Peter, my sweet Peter. I miss you.
This is a Friday Fictioneers prompt
You can read more FF prompt responses here
Word Count: 100
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