And as I watched it fade away, I came to the unexpected realization that this deed of generosity would permanently alter who I am.

I kept thinking about the note the following morning as I sipped my coffee on my patio with a view of the lake. Who was she? What was her tale? Like the ripples from where the rose had landed, the questions whirled around in my head. It seemed incomplete, as if there was yet more to discover.

I made the decision to go to the neighborhood café beside the park entrance later that day. Perhaps there was a person there who knew who had left the rose. I saw an elderly woman seated by herself at a corner table as I placed my normal order for a latte. She gazed out the window at the lake while wearing a cozy