A Dozen Roses

She smelled the flowers once again as she walked into her building. She was just returning home from work, walking down the pavement and thinking of mundane things after an equally mundane day. Her clothes were slightly crumpled from the train ride home and her hair looked like it had gone to battle with the wind and had lost spectacularly. She occasionally made attempts to straighten her hair but knew that they were of no use. She did not even care in fact. All she wanted to do was to go home, have dinner and plop herself on the bed and watch whatever was on TV. As she was just a few steps away from her building, a man tapped on her back. She turned around to answer and saw him holding a dozen roses.

He was practically skipping down the pavement, humming slightly to himself as he sniffed the flowers in his hands. The intoxicating fragrance further stirred the excitement bubbling inside him. He had taken special care in dressing up for his date tonight. He wanted his first date with this woman to be perfect. He still could not believe that he had finally gathered the courage to ask her out. After months of longing glances and failed conversations, he had finally decided to end the charade. As he walked, giddily lost in his thoughts, rehearsing his plans, his phone buzzed rather ominously. As he looked at it, his smile wilted slowly. It was a text from her, informing him that she was cancelling their plans for the night as something better came up. He sighed incredulously. There he stood, alone in the bustling crowd, thinking how to nurse his broken heart. The flowers seemed odorless now, as if its fragrance had escaped from the bouquet and had folded into the elaborate concoction of scents that was this city. His first instinct was to throw away the flowers, head back home and pour himself a stiff drink.That is when he spotted her walking a few steps ahead of her. He reached to her and tapped her on the back.

She was a bit taken aback but smilingly obliged. The man gave a curt nod of thanks and walked away as she entered her building, taking in the sweet smell. She fished out her keys and opened the door and immediately filled a bottle with water and placed the flowers in it. The flowers really seemed to brighten the house. She smiled contentedly and suddenly decided to have a long, luxurious bath. After about an hour, she emerged from her bathtub and studied herself. Her face was back to its pretty and radiant self, the days weariness having washed away. Satisfied, she got dressed as she hummed to herself, thinking about the flowers adorning her drawing room. A while later, she entered her kitchen. A few hours earlier, her idea of dinner had consisted of sundry leftovers from the morning. But her new found sense of indulgence got the better of her and she decided to cook herself her favorite meal, stealing fond glances at the flowers every now and then.

So there she sat, ending her otherwise humdrum day. She ate her favorite meal in complete and content silence, beside the bouquet of flowers. Meanwhile, a man somewhere in the city poured himself drink after drink, wallowing in his dejection.




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