The roses started appearing on her desk not long after they watched "Remains of the Day" in Tom's 20th century cinema. Today they were pink, the last were yellow, she never knew what to expect. There didn't seem to be a pattern - except, as soon as one bunch began to wilt, the next would appear - always fresh and beautiful, perfuming her ready room, and without comment or explanation.
She sighed when she finally deciphered the meaning in the flowers. They were not here just to brighten her room; they were a gentle warning that some things don't last forever.
THE END
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