No Flowers Required
““Is there anything else I can do for you?” Harvey Walton, her real estate agent, asked. He’d called to make sure she was happy with how the sale of her home had gone, and she’d yet to do little more than answer in short sentences.
She’d sold her dream house for a very good price in a depressed market. How could she complain? The discount-store violet Harvey had sent didn’t exactly thrill her, but she couldn’t fault the gesture. Nope, it was the obvious red-and-white sticker of her nemesis, Value Hardware, on the bottom of the pot she faulted, not Harvey.
The only good thing about her new apartment was that she wouldn’t have to see her nemesis down the block unless she pressed her forehead against the window. And since said window had enough grime to reduce the outward view significantly, she wasn’t going to touch the thing, especially with her face.
“No, thanks,” she said, setting the violet on the windowsill.
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