One Perfect Rose

This story was the first one I had ever written. It's very short and was written as a challenge for the month of June at Ex Isle and came in at the minimum word count of the challenge. The challenge was to look at a picture and write a story about what the picture represented to you. This is the picture for June:

And here is my little story about that picture:

It was the most perfect rose she had ever seen, yellow on the inside, red staining the outside of the petals. The stem was long and straight, perfect for the simple bud vase in which it resided. It was a gift of love from her one and only, the only man in her life. For the last 5 years he had been the center of her world and always gave her a single perfect rose on her birthday, always a different color. The first was pure white, then pink, yellow, red. This birthday was no exception; the rose arrived just like clockwork.

She brought the bloom up to her nose and smelled the sweet fragrance then touched the soft petals, stroking them with loving hands, careful not to touch the thorns that can prick and hurt her hand. She put the rose back on her bedside table, got up and dressed in her favorite red shorts, tee shirt, red socks and running shoes then went downstairs where she threw her arms around the man who, to her, hung the moon and stars in the sky and said in her sweet little 5 year old voice:

"Thank you, Daddy."

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