you're sitting in your bedroom, reading a book all alone. it's your birthday, but you're not seeing any friends or family. you're alone, but you don't mind. the quiet is nice. suddenly there's a knock on your bedroom window.

a lump forms in your throat, which you quickly swallow. you know that you have a stalker but you've never seen his face before. you stand up, walking over to your window to find a single rose on your windowsill. and a note that reads

happy birthday, love.