Short Story Sunday 102

short story sunday violet rachel poli

            “Violets, please. They’re her favorite.”

The older gentleman behind the florist counter grinned. “Ah, a special lady, huh?” He walked around the edge of the counter and staggered over to the opposite wall.

“Yes, she is pretty special.” Logan nodded in agreement. He watched the florist open a glass cabinet and pull out two bouquets of violets.

“Oh,” Logan pointed to the bouquets. “I only need one, thanks.”

“I know,” the old man said bluntly. “Would you like indigo violets,” he held up the bouquet in his left hand, “or the violet violets?” he held up the bouquet in his right hand.

Logan dropped his arm by his side and shifted his gaze at the two colors.

“Personally I like the indigo violets. There’s a certain shine.” He winked. “You know, for that certain woman.”

Logan chuckled. “I’ll take the pure violets, thanks. Purple is her favorite color anyway.”

“Makes sense.” The gentleman nodded. He put the indigo flowers back in the case and shuffled his feet back behind the counter.

“So,” he punched some numbers on the old cash register. “you know her favorite flowers and favorite color, huh? Must be an important relationship. That will be 13 dollars and 42 cents.”

Logan opened his wallet and handed the man a 20-dollar bill.

“How long have you and this lucky lady been together?”

“Oh…” Logan pretended to think and then laughed. “My whole life.”

“Ah, young love!” the old man smiled. He handed Logan his change and bid him a good day.

Logan gratefully took the flowers and left the store. He walked three blocks down the road before turning the corner and coming up to a red brick house.

He stood on the front porch, gripping the violets in one hand and fixing his tie in the other. Then Logan opened the front door and let himself in.

“Logan? Is that you?”

Logan kicked his shoes off by the front door and smiled upon hearing the woman’s voice from the other room.

“It’s me!” he called.

He walked through the living room and poked his head into the kitchen. There was a older woman sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand. She smiled.

“Hi, Mom.” Logan walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek. He handed her the bouquet. “Happy Easter.”

His mother beamed taking the flowers in one hand and wrapping her other arm around her son’s neck in a warm embrace.

Words: 412

Advertisements

9 thoughts on “Short Story Sunday 102

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.