170 Corinthian Bouquet (Pedestrians 13: 4-8)

On the corner I waited for a lighted green man to say I could walk. A five-way light meant a long wait for all the crisscrossing traffic to take their respective turns.

I glanced something contrasting red against black that lay on the ground. Peripheral vision is expecially sensitive to contrast, and there on the road a half-dozen roses lay in state, wrapped in clear and green cellophane: the contrast with the asphalt was striking. There it was, lying-in-state, pathetic and grieving.

There's a story here, for sure, I thought.

Why only a half-dozen roses? It's green and clear wrapping, on closer inspection, bore the scars of tire tracks. Indignity atop rejection.

What was its story?

There it was interred, inviting scripts to be written by the pedestrians that regarded it. The red man wasn't green yet, so I busily wrote my own:

It was an unaccepted apology, that was certain, having been tossed away as it had been. But for what? It could have been an inconsiderate oversight. It could have been for a lack of sympathy to his lover who was hurting. Why wouldn't he comfort her? Why couldn't he grant her succor with an embrace or a reassuring sentiment?

Perhaps he had ogled too hard at another woman and things escalated the longer he denied it; after a night's sleep to reconsider, he did just that, and wanted to seal the reconciliation with a bouquet.

Perhaps he was insensitive. Or selfish or self-serving. Perhaps he took something out on her she didn't deserve, and a half-dozen roses counteracted a half-dozen mean things he said that were impossible to un-say.

Perhaps he was dishonest, and she caught him in a lie. Or six. Don't men know lying never works?

Distrust? Perhaps it was for some infidelity. If so, a half-dozen seemed paltry.

Yes, any of these things could have required some sort of compensation, and he took a man's path of least resistance by just buying an apology wrapped in cellophane.

Maybe he had done nothing wrong all, I thought. Perhaps he meant well and bought her flowers for some anniversary or birthday.

And then--then--he was just too cheap to buy a whole dozen!

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Tuesday, June 18, Day 170 of the Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Title-accompaniment photo was AI-generated (Artificial Ingratiation) but traffic was not.

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There are currently three surviving Vocal writers still participating in the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer, challenge originator

• Rachel Deeming

• Gerard DiLeo (some other guy)

Read them. Support them. Pray for them. And watch them reap what they sow.