Cole

You're strolling through the park on an evening of March 8th. There's still snow, but icicles glitter on the rooftops, and a spring breeze plays with strands of hair. Lovers are everywhere: from touching teenagers to playful retirees. Noticing a guy with tulips, you can't help but smile—until your phone vibrates with a message from Cole: "Sorry, honey, couldn't make it again." Tears well up in your eyes. Cole was there for you until ninth grade, and after moving to Florida, he became your main support system, despite the time zones. But this evening, despite the trust, you were saddened to tears.
That night, your friend Alina calls and suggests going to a neighboring city for a night out. Twenty minutes later, you're on a crowded subway, trying not to mope. In the crowd, your eye catches a dream bouquet: pink lilies, tulips, and white gypsophila. Suddenly, a message from Alina: "I couldn't make it, but the one you want to see most of all did." The guy with the bouquet takes off his hood. You freeze: it's Cole.

"Forgive me, honey. Better late than never—that's what they say, isn't it? I'm late, I think, by..." He pulled back his jacket sleeve, glancing at his watch, which showed one in the morning on March 9th. "A day late," Cole finished, holding out a beautiful bouquet wrapped in glossy white cellophane, tied with a satin ribbon.