I walked into the flower shop, all casual like. I grabbed one red long-stemmed rose, careful not to prick my finger.
I smiled at the workers in the back, busily snipping stems and arranging arrangements. They nodded back at me. I browsed the Hallmarks for a minute. Then I walked out, the door jingling behind me.
She was in the car. She stared straight ahead, careful not to avert her eyes from whatever she watched as walked in front of the car. I sat down in the driver's seat.
"For you, m'dear," I said, leaning over for what I hoped would be a kiss worthy of a certain kind of cinema.
"Nice," she said instead, looking down at the flower then taking it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger. "What am I supposed to do with it now?"
"What do women ever do with flowers?" I said, leaning back, silently swearing at the car roof. "We buy them, you tell us how sweet we are, you stick them in a vase, they die a few days later, you throw them out and life goes on."
"So, it's the thought that counts? That's what you're saying?"
"Yeah. I guess so."
"Nice."
I looked at her, noting how her long black hair was pulled tight over her head and tied into a ponytail. At her full red lips, lightly lipsticked against her light brown skin. Her dark eyes, framed by unnaturally long lashes. I looked at her and I could feel her moving against me.
Moving against me.
"You thought this would make a difference?" she asked, brushing the red petals against her lips as breathed its scent.
"I took great risks," I offered.
She was quiet for some time.
"Did it work?" I asked. I raised my eyebrows for comic effect.
"Not really," she said I and I slammed my palm against the steering wheel.
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Nothing really," she said.
And then she turned to me and smiled.
# # #
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