Her footsteps echo down the dimly lit hallway as she slowly approaches the imposing black door. With each step, her heart beats faster and faster, a sense of apprehension creeping over her. She takes a deep breath and reaches for the doorknob, her hand trembling slightly. It's not the first time she's been here, but the feeling of unease never lessens. She mutters to herself, trying to steady her breath, as she bends down to pick up a bouquet of twelve dead roses lying at the foot of the steps. She counts them carefully, knowing that each day one less flower will be there. It's a countdown that terrifies her, making her more and more anxious with every passing day. She wonders what will happen when the last rose dies. Will it be the end of something? She doesn't know, but she clings onto the bouquet tightly, feeling a sense of dread wash over her as she unlocks her front door.