Corinthian Bouquet
1 Pedestrians 13:4-8
On the corner I waited for the lighted green man to say walk. A five-way light meant a long wait for crisscrossing traffic to take their turns.
There it lay, grieving and pathetic.
A half-dozen roses, wrapped in cellophane, riddled with tire marks. Why not a dozen? What was its story? There it was interred, inviting scripts.
For what was this an unrequited apology? Unkindness? Envy? Boasting? Pride? For dishonor, self-seeking, or anger? Keeping score? Dishonesty? Distrust? For failure or for just quitting? Mean words impossible to un-say?
Or was it for being too cheap to buy a whole dozen?
About the Creator
Gerard DiLeo
Retired, not tired. Hippocampus, behave!
Make me rich! https://www.amazon.com/Gerard-DiLeo/e/B00JE6LL2W/
My substrack at https://substack.com/@drdileo
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