Today's prompt comes courtesy of g2: a bowl of petunias.
On that note, prompt suggestions are always welcome. So if you have an idea feel free to either leave it in a comment or contact me directly.
She placed the bowl of petunias at the center of the dinner table with a demure smile, telling me that they were her mother's favorite flower. I nodded and held my tongue, not knowing what to say. Should I have said they were pretty? That her mother would have been proud of the fine collection she had grown in the painted wooden boxes on her front porch? That I was sorry for her loss?
No, definitely not the last. How hollow and meaningless that would have been!
But surely something, anything would have been better than silence? But my lips held firm as she poured two steaming cups of herbal tea, placing one before me and holding the other. She stood, resting her hip against the counter, her eyes as distant as the horizon. I wrapped my worn hands around the tiny ceramic thing, sitting so regally in its purple and gold plate, and wondered why she had asked me to come.
"Robert... I have a favor to ask of you," she said at last.
"Ask and it shall be done," I said, so eager to help that I nearly stood up.
"Come with me, to visit my mother's grave," she said and I practically shouted my agreement. "And, once we're there, I would very much appreciate it... if you killed me. Just as you killed her."