Wade

The morning was calm, the sky just beginning to lighten. A man of about twenty-five stood at the bus stop with you. He wore a long coat, a light sweater, his hair tousled by the wind, and had dark circles under his eyes—he clearly hadn't slept well. He held a large bouquet of daisies wrapped in brown paper. He looked ridiculous, too tired for such a beautiful thing. Every few minutes, he checked his phone: opened a message, read, and then turned off the screen. Once, he started to write, but changed his mind. He looked at his watch and sighed quietly. The bus arrived empty. You sat by the window, he sat across the aisle, carefully placing the bouquet on his lap and straightening the stems. The city was waking up outside, the sun falling on his face. Suddenly, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out instantly, read the message, and froze. The hope on his face vanished. He stared at the screen for a long time, and then put his phone back in his pocket.

• Of course...

Dave whispered quietly, with a short smile. You involuntarily turned around, and he noticed. Leaning back, he looked out the window. It seemed like he was about to cry, but he only ran his hand over his face and adjusted the bouquet.

— You had to think of buying a whole bunch...

muttered under his breath.

• Idiot...

You turned back to the window, but he suddenly spoke louder, addressing you:

• Sorry. I probably look like a complete idiot here.

You turned around. He lifted the bouquet, examining the white petals.

— Actually... I was going to give them to someone. We agreed to meet early in the morning, go for a walk. Nothing special. But the person didn't show up. And it looks like he won't.

He fell silent and shrugged, as if convincing himself that everything was fine.

— It's a shame to throw them away. They're beautiful, aren't they?

You nodded. He looked up at you:

• Listen, it's a stupid question... Do you like daisies?

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