Dear Diary:
I passed a man one recent evening, about my age, standing outside a cafe in Union Square. He was sweetly cradling a large bouquet of roses that he must have just purchased from the flower vendor outside the deli across the street - two dozen for $10.
The man seemed to be both searching the block, and glancing down at his cellphone. I went into Staples to buy printer paper, and when I came out, he was still there, cellphone hidden in a pocket, flowers held by the stems in a far less precious manner.
A real-life human drama, I thought. But something about that touched a deep yearning, and I had a sudden strong impulse to go right over, kiss him on the cheek, and say, “Are those flowers for me?â€
But I kept on walking… across the street to the flower vendor, where I bought myself a large bouquet of red roses for $10.
Two hearts, all dressed up and no place to go.
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