Old Roses

I wondered what was in the box on the porch. John had ordered yellow roses for his grandmother’s grave for her birthday. He set them on the dining table in our turquoise vase until it was time. When he got back, I told him I missed them. Next day I found yellow roses on the table, yellower than the others, and I kissed him. I watched the petals deepen and curl into a startling, rich beauty.

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