Unknown Story

My grandfather built the first house on Pleasant Street,... This house, right here. My family has lived here for better than a hundred years. My grandmother planted these roses, and my mother tended them, juust as i do.
... MIss Strangeworth came out of the store into a bright sunlight and stopped to smile down on the Crane baby. Don and Helen Crane were the most infactuated young parents she has ever known, she thought indulgently...
Smiling to herself and shaking her old head, she went on down the sunny street, stopping once to ask little Billy Moore why he wasnt out riding in his daddys shiny new car, and talking for a few minutes outside the library with Miss Chandler, the librarian...
The perfume of roses meant home, and home meant the Strangeworth house on Pleasant Street. Miss Strangeworth stopped at her own front gate as she always did and looked with deep pleasure at her house, with the red and pink and white roses...
Her hand did not shake as she open the envelope and folded the sheet of green paper inside. She began to cry silently for the wickedness of the world when she read the words; Look out at what used to be your roses,
She had been writing her letters-sometimes two or three a day, sometimes no more than one in a month-for the past year. She never got any answers, of course, because she never signed her name…

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