One lovely May morning, when the man’s yard was at the height of its full glorious bloom, he did something more than simply admire her from afar. She felt nervous when she saw him cross the street and begin to walk up her driveway. As he approached her, she noticed he held one hand behind his back. He flashed her that wide grin, which still had a boyish quality to it, in spite of his sixty something years. She again gave him one of her timid smiles.
The hand that had been hiding behind his back came into view, holding one perfect red rose. He offered it to her, maintaining the grin.
Then he spoke in a gentle voice, “One perfect rose for one lovely lady.”
Laurie blushed at the complement, not knowing what to say in return. She was shy, and unaccustomed to complements from a man, other than her late husband.
She simply bestowed another smile upon him and replied, “Thank you. It’s lovely."
He appeared satisfied by her response to his gesture. He beamed at her, a smile that seemed to shine out through his eyes. Then he turned and walked away from her, back down the driveway, and across the street.
Laurie instinctively felt guilty upon receiving the rose, felt guilty that her cheeks had flushed with excitement when the man handed it to her. She glanced towards the front window instinctively to see if her husband was watching, only to remember that he was no longer around to witness anything that happened to her.