Alan

The morning began with a loud quarrel.

You had an argument over something trivial that quickly escalated into mutual recriminations. You slammed the door, and for the first time in a long time, he realized he'd really gone too far.

By lunchtime, anger had given way to irritation at myself.

Alan never knew how to apologize, didn't understand romance, and especially not flowers. He only knew one thing: girls love bouquets.

Walking into the first store he came across, he confidently pointed to a large wreath. A man before him had bought a similar one, so there was no doubt.

"Is this really it?" the saleswoman asked strangely.

• Yes.

She silently accepted the payment.

When the door opened, you looked at him warily.

He held out the wreath.

• Let me prove that I'm not the asshole you think I am.

Your gaze slowly dropped to the flowers.

— You... brought me a funeral wreath?

• What?

— These are the kind they bring to funerals.

Alan looked down in confusion.

Just now I noticed the black ribbon, white chrysanthemums, spruce branches and the inscription with condolences.

The sympathetic glances of passers-by and the strange face of the saleswoman immediately came to mind.

He exhaled quietly.

• That explains a lot...

You could barely contain your laughter.

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and after a short pause said quite seriously:

• This is how I show how much I regret my actions.