The story of those roses continued...
Well, I am determined NOT to finish the whole story tonight. Because I am sadistic with cliffies.
But here's a bit more.
So, there I was on the morning on September 10. I had just gotten off the bus at Port Authority and was walking up 8th Avenue. I was going to stop at the flower market on the corner of 8th and 43rd Street to pick up those red roses. Then I was going to kill an hour or two at the nearest Starbucks before meeting Bonnie and Jessica at the Majestic alley.
I probably stood there forever at the flower market, just picking out the nicest bouquet of red roses I could find. As I paid for them...I had a sudden, random, out-of-the-blue, out-of-character impulse to get him a second bouquet. From myself. And my two friends.
To be continued...
But here's a bit more.
So, there I was on the morning on September 10. I had just gotten off the bus at Port Authority and was walking up 8th Avenue. I was going to stop at the flower market on the corner of 8th and 43rd Street to pick up those red roses. Then I was going to kill an hour or two at the nearest Starbucks before meeting Bonnie and Jessica at the Majestic alley.
I probably stood there forever at the flower market, just picking out the nicest bouquet of red roses I could find. As I paid for them...I had a sudden, random, out-of-the-blue, out-of-character impulse to get him a second bouquet. From myself. And my two friends.
To be continued...