GENRE: YA Urban Fantasy
I hadn't realized what day it was. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind until I was running down the porch and something shifted underneath my shoe on the last step. And then, within a second of looking down to see what is was, I remembered--not only the date, but everything associated with it: my sinking stomach, the unanswered questions, the fact that I'd promised myself I'd stop trying to understand it. And of course, the thing I remembered most--the flower. A dahlia, yellow and bright as the sun when spring first arrives in Shaver.
Always the same kind of flower, always the same color. Not once, in ten years, did it change. Nor did the method of delivery: sitting on the last porch step, in front of our house, on my birthday.
With my stomach now soured, the piece of bread I'd grabbed on my way out the door threatening its way up my esophagus, I bent down to pick up the dahlia. It should have made me smile, should have made me feel a little better after the chaotic morning, right? Well it didn't. Not that morning. Not ever.
Before I could wrap my fingers around the stem, my phone rang. A glance at the screen told me it was Eva, my best friend. We were both set to work together at the bookstore, so it wasn't hard to figure out why she was calling.
"Dahlia?" Eva shrieked.