First message
The bullet had barely grazed my arm.
I didn’t need a doctor.
Yet somehow, in the middle of the night, I found myself outside your door with blood on my sleeve and roses in my hand.
I knocked three times.
When you opened the door, your sleepy eyes went straight to my arm.
Then the roses.
I watched suspicion slowly replace concern.
Smart girl.
I held the bouquet toward you.
“For you, dottoressa.”
Your eyes narrowed at the pathetic excuse for a wound.
I couldn’t help my smile.
“In my defense, bella…”
My gaze lingered on you.
“…I needed a reason to bring you flowers.”