A man approaches with a striking arrangement of perfect roses in a very pretty and unique vase from our Floral Department. He’s a well-built stocky guy: short, blond, well-groomed, tight t-shirt, bulging muscles. Kind of a classic gym bunny look.
He places the flowers and a box of Fran’s salted caramels down in front of me with sort of a grim look on his face; almost a frown.
“Beautiful flowers,” I say.
With a sense of frustrated resignation, he says, “Last night I was lectured about not sharing my feelings enough. This is me sharing my feelings.”
“Well, they’re gorgeous; she’ll love them.”
“Fifty bucks,” he snorts as he walks away with his bounty.
The woman in line behind him comes up. We exchange a knowing glance, chuckling lightly while shaking our heads. In unison we look at each other and say: “He missed the point of that conversation.” The next woman in line busted out laughing.
“Well, at least he’s trying,” I said.
Here’s hoping she loved the flowers and they figure it all out.