The Missing Rose by Serdar Ozkan

Author:Serdar Ozkan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

3

S TARTLED, Diana awoke to the sound of the doorbell which, despite its melodious chime, cut like a knife through her aching head.

“Senhora Lopez! Senhora Lopez! Please answer the door!”

Hearing no reply, she remembered that it was Senhora Lopez’s day off. Holding on to the sofa, she dragged herself up. Then, hardly able to stand, she made her way to the door.

On looking at the security camera, she could see that the unwelcome caller was Gabriel, the courier who regularly delivered flowers and all kinds of beribboned packages to her.

When she opened the door, she found Gabriel standing with yet another festooned package, its top reaching almost to his chin. His brown face, brown overalls and brown hat were a perfect match for the color of the package.

“Good day, Miss,” Gabriel said. “I have yet another gift addressed to Rio’s most beautiful girl. Would you know if she happens to live here or not?”

“Isn’t it a bit early to be delivering parcels, Gabriel?”

“Well, this must be the right address, then. But maybe the wrong time?”

“What time is it?”

“It’s already noon.”

“Is it really that late?”

Diana took the package and signed her name in the delivery book in a scrawl that resembled any signature but her own. And before Gabriel could say his usual, “Take care till the next time your admirers bring us together,” she shut the door.

Receiving prettily gift-wrapped packages always used to make her day. This time, however, she wasn’t the least bit interested in knowing what was inside the package, nor who’d sent it. She left it there on the floor and headed back to the sofa.

As she walked past the mirror in the hall, she noticed wine stains on her shirt. She suddenly remembered her mother, as she’d become accustomed to these days. Somehow, any small or seemingly unrelated thing was enough to take Diana back to her life with her mother. A color, a smell, a word, and now this stained shirt. The memory of the day she’d bought this shirt and the conversation she’d had with her mother afterward came to life as if it were only yesterday . . .

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