I looked down at my taxi cab yellow comforter. It was covered in white flowers. All I could think of was who put these here? I looked around my dark wood floor for any type of evidence of how the flowers got into my room and on my bed. My room is locked from the inside, and only myself and my roommates have a key but they’re all gone on holiday for a month. (I couldn’t go because I couldn’t afford to which is ok because I have to go to work and I have a lot of school work to catch up on and get ahead of.) I inspected my white framed windows to see if I possibly had left my window open before leaving this morning but it was closed and locked. I stared at the white walls, which held the colorful pictures of my family and friends, to see if anything was out of place. I made sure every detail of my room was the same as how I left it this morning, which was easy considering I just cleaned it last night.

I finally walked over to my bed and started to canvass the flowers. I could hardly see the mellow tones of my comforter because of how dense the flowers were. I hand picked each flower rummaging through its leaves, destroying the flower and stem looking for any clue. It took almost an hour to get through the entire heap and by the time I was done, my room looked as though a florist had come in and had her fun with the flowers that were left over from the work day.

I looked at my bed which was now scattered with white petals and saw a little light-gray colored envelope. I was happy to see any type of indication on the flowers that I ripped the envelope open without even seeing who it was addressed to. Inside the gray envelope was a strip of paper. The sentence was written in such amazing calligraphy that you knew the person who wrote the note must have been practising the writing their entire lives. The ink looked expensive as it was golden and reflected in the light of my lamp.
White Flowers: Purity and Innocence.

After I read the note all I could do was stare at it. I didn’t know a single person who knew how to write in calligraphy, let alone anyone who was rich enough to purchase an ink that looked like that. I started, now, to reflect on my own life. Was it considered pure? Was I innocent? I didn’t think so. I’ve been corrupted since a child by society and how my family life was. Nor was I pure since I knew from my limited time at church, no one is pure.

I grabbed the envelope and card and put it on my white desk which was where all of my school supplies were. I did not inspect this area when I was inspecting the rest of my room but I saw something that caught my eye. It was the tiniest shimmer of gold. It looked like the same kind that was on the paper. I decided that my main priority right then was to grab a trash bag and get all of the flowers out of my room. I gathered up all of the large pieces of the flower and put them into a large industrial sized black trash bag. Once all of the remains of the flowers were in the bag, I tied it, but not without a struggle. I wove myself through the hallways, past all of my roommates doors and through the mess of the living room, carrying the black bag to the front door. I left it in the corridor so that when I left the house again I could take it to the dumpster. (I didn’t want to leave now in fear of leaving my house open for the person who did this to come back in and do something else.)

On my way back to my room, I stopped in the living room to grab the vacuum out of the closet behind the futon. I dragged it back to my room, plugged it into the socket behind my bed, and started to clean up all of the pollen that had come from the flowers. I shook my comforter and heard a quiet thud. I didn’t think too much of it considering the vacuum was on- and loud - and because I live in an apartment complex so it could’ve been a result of one of the hundred neighbors I have. I finished cleaning, put the vacuum back and re entered my room.

The vibe was different than how I left it. I took 2 steps into my room and became instantly nervous and paranoid. It was almost as if someone was in my room with me, staring me down as if I had murdered their cat and they wanted a vengeance. I started to feel as though my throat was swelling up and was having a hard time breathing. This was accompanied by my stomach feeling as though there were people running around and around in there trying to escape. A great pressure feeling had developed in my chest and made me want to scratch at my throat and rip my chest apart to relieve the pressure.

I woke up in a hot sweat. I was breathing hard and was relieved to no longer feel the pressure that I had been experiencing. I finally was able to convince myself that I was only dreaming, and rolled over under my comforter. My eyes finally adjusted to the darkness of the night and I saw something that looked like it was slid under my door. I got up to look at it, it was a small gray envelope.