PART ZERO | MYSTERIOUS SUNFLOWERS

Roses might be the flower most women would love to receive. Yet, I think I like Sunflower better. It reminds me of a sunny afternoon at the weekend.

Laughing is the best, and probably the cheapest, way to relieve the stress after a day loaded with paper works and constant abhorrence of nosy coworkers. We need those boost of endorphins, it makes us happy. That is why watching funny TV shows becomes an after-work routine for me. Affordable and suit a single woman's life perfectly. I know, I know, it sounds pathetic.

Tonight I choose James Corden as my company. As he delivers a coordinated joke and people in the studio are laughing (probably faking it too), I start to think about the sound. The sound of laughing. Interestingly, the same joke can generate various sounds. How every people in the room has their typical laugh. And it amazes me when I, thousands of miles away from the studio, start laughing too. Contagious.

The bell chimes loudly from my front door, indicating someone needs me on this chilly night. It is midnight in London and I am enjoying my lone time. Who the hell is visiting me at this hour?

No image comes to mind. Even my best friend, Miko, won't possibly appear this late. It takes at least one hour in a car for her to reach my flat. And I know she won't risk herself by driving at night because of her blurry vision, due to myopia, which gets worst when the night comes. Or maybe it is just an excuse because she is too tired to drive at night after a long day in her office.

Curious about the mysterious guest, I drag my feet to the front door. James Corden is still erroneously heard from the distance. I peek out of my peephole to find my neighbor standing on my doorstep with a bouquet of sunflowers. I frown, it is unusual for her to ring my bell late at night.

"Hello, hard worker," I greet Lola as soon as I open the door. She looks like just get home from her work by the look of the crumpled white blouse she is wearing right now. "Overtime?"

"You tell me," she says with a week smile on her face. The black circle under her eyes are prominent when I look closer.

"Wanna come in?" I ask her. "Nice episode of The Late Late."

She shakes her head and hands the bouquet to me, which I receive in confusion. "Someone dropped it at Ron's for you." Ron is a security guy at our building.

"Strange. Who sends flowers late at night? It wasn't there when I came home this evening," I say after muttering a thank you for Lola. My name is written in scratchy handwriting on white paper without any messages. Somehow it looks familiar.

"Maybe you have a secret admirer," Lola chirps, wiggling her eyebrow at me. The tired face is gone, replaced by an amused expression.

"Silly. It may be from Miko," I reason, waving my free hand in front of her face. But the handwriting is not hers, I know that.

"She is sweet but I don't think she will waste her money on a flower. She is more into food, like sushi, in my opinion." Lola says. Then she brings her hand to her mouth, holds back the yawn. "I have to sleep now. Let's talk tomorrow."

Lola walks away after saying goodnight, leaving me thinking about the sunflower all by myself. Not everyone knows my favorite flowers. It is just a few friends and family. The handwritting is the only clue that leads me to open a box under my bed. A box that I never open for years.

There lay several letters with New York's stamp on it. My hands get clammy all of sudden. Picking one of the letters from the box, I quickly scan it. It is a letter from four years ago. Then I read my name written on the white paper. It is indeed the same handwriting. Scratchy, as if the writer is in a rush. But no, it is just the way he does it. His brain works so fast so that his hand should compensate for the flow.

I feel my chest tightens. It is hard to breathe. I shut my eyes, trying so hard to breathe normally. It is him. Definitely. Sending me my favorite flower after leaving me clueless about his whereabouts for years.

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