Microfiction Day 82 – “The Gift”

The vase had never held flowers.

For a while it had held chopsticks from when she had ordered takeaway every night for a week. She always had to use a fork to eat it.

Another time it had held her paintbrushes, but that passion had died as quickly as it started.

Most recently it had held her keys, something she hadn’t immediately realised as she spent a frantic hour trying to find them.

But now it held a single rose. And as beautiful as it was, she lived alone.

She had no idea who could have put it there.