A Flower A Day
1/1
He wasn't very good at his job. At least, that's what they told him. His co-worker’s annoyed frowns, his boss’ frustrated words, and his minuscule paycheck reinforced the idea every day. He always left work with downcast eyes and a thundering storm cloud over his head. Now, he stood outside, swaying with the wind. He was by the edge, and he slowly leaned over, looking down onto the deserted alley more than twenty floors below him. He immediately felt dizzy, and gripped the ledge tightly until his knuckles turned a painful white. He closed his eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths, trying to regain the desperate courage he had had only moments ago.
He couldn't do this, he decided. It was stupid. Maybe it was for the better that he had chickened out. He picked up his briefcase, put on his hat, and began to head home. Out in the street, he stopped a minute to glance up at where he had just been. The tall office building loomed above him so that he had to crane his neck back in order to see the very top. He stood staring in disbelief at the enormous distance from there to his spot on the ground. Had he really just been about to jump?
He once again started for home, navigating the quiet city streets, actually relieved to be going to his single story home. Heights were not his thing anymore, he decided. Besides, his life was by no means that horrible. He had just had some bad luck over the years, a few too many hardballs thrown his way that he was unable to hit out of the park. Although, that wasn’t how his wife saw it. In her eyes, he was a failure. In her eyes, he was someone who had really let her down. In her eyes, he was as good as nothing.
His walk slowed again as these thoughts entered his head. He considered retracing his steps back to the roof of that building, and sitting there until he got up the nerve to throw his body over the edge. Would he be able to handle another disappointed glare and silent dinner with the woman who blamed him for all of her misfortune?
No. He probably wouldn't. He was already depressed enough without the constant reminder that her presence alone gave. It was likely that his life would just get worse from here, so why not beat his bad luck to the punch and just end this tragedy that somehow passed as a life? He was just making up his mind to turn around when he ran into somebody.
He hadn't been paying attention at all, as he was so immersed in his depressive thoughts, but he should have know the sidewalk would not have been empty. Now to just add basic walking skills to the mile-long list of things he was bad at. He stumbled backward from the surprise and impact, his hat tumbling off of his head and his cheap briefcase falling to the ground, latches popping open.
He grumbled obscenities to himself as he crouched to the ground to pick up all of his scattered papers, not even glancing up. He figured whomever he had run into would silently curse him and then continue on their way. The last thing he was expecting to see was a hand reaching out to help him up, just as he had gotten his briefcase secured. It was a pale and slender hand, small and smooth. He glanced up, confused, and found himself staring into the innocently kind, young face of a twenty-something year old woman. He let her help him up, and then she handed him back his grungy hat, which she had first gone to retrieve.
“Thanks,” he mumbled shyly, almost embarrassedly. He tried to give a small smile, which ended up feeling more like an awkward grimace. He quickly stopped, not wanting to scare her off just because those muscles were so out of practice.
“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” she said in her sweet-sounding, high pitched voice. “This probably won’t make up for it, but maybe it will put you in a better mood.” She reached behind her to a small stand that was set up in front of a modest little shop, and gave him two things he had not received in awhile. One was a simple white daisy, and the other was a genuine, sunny smile. He took the flower from her, unsure what to say other than another mumbled thanks, and wished he could take the smile too. It was a pleasant change to the world of frowns he had been living in. The girl had been right though. It had helped. Gone were all thoughts of suicide. After months of disappointments, frustrations, regrets, and depression, this one simple act of kindness was like finding water in the desert. It was salvation.
Everyday thereafter, he stopped by her flower shop on the way home. Sometimes he would buy bouquets, and sometimes he would just look through the colorful bright world that was the flower shop, so different from his dreary and gray everyday life. He never thought of the girl as anything more than a simple acquaintance, she was just someone who did not see him as a letdown, but he looked forward to these few minutes as the highlights of his days. Slowly, he started to see the good in life. He began to enjoy himself more and more, and then other aspects of his life began to seem better too. Soon enough, the two got into a routine. The girl would try to find a new flower to give him daily. No matter how beautiful the flower she showed him, his favorite was always the white daisy, which had first shown him that there was still compassion in the world.
He couldn't do this, he decided. It was stupid. Maybe it was for the better that he had chickened out. He picked up his briefcase, put on his hat, and began to head home. Out in the street, he stopped a minute to glance up at where he had just been. The tall office building loomed above him so that he had to crane his neck back in order to see the very top. He stood staring in disbelief at the enormous distance from there to his spot on the ground. Had he really just been about to jump?
He once again started for home, navigating the quiet city streets, actually relieved to be going to his single story home. Heights were not his thing anymore, he decided. Besides, his life was by no means that horrible. He had just had some bad luck over the years, a few too many hardballs thrown his way that he was unable to hit out of the park. Although, that wasn’t how his wife saw it. In her eyes, he was a failure. In her eyes, he was someone who had really let her down. In her eyes, he was as good as nothing.
His walk slowed again as these thoughts entered his head. He considered retracing his steps back to the roof of that building, and sitting there until he got up the nerve to throw his body over the edge. Would he be able to handle another disappointed glare and silent dinner with the woman who blamed him for all of her misfortune?
No. He probably wouldn't. He was already depressed enough without the constant reminder that her presence alone gave. It was likely that his life would just get worse from here, so why not beat his bad luck to the punch and just end this tragedy that somehow passed as a life? He was just making up his mind to turn around when he ran into somebody.
He hadn't been paying attention at all, as he was so immersed in his depressive thoughts, but he should have know the sidewalk would not have been empty. Now to just add basic walking skills to the mile-long list of things he was bad at. He stumbled backward from the surprise and impact, his hat tumbling off of his head and his cheap briefcase falling to the ground, latches popping open.
He grumbled obscenities to himself as he crouched to the ground to pick up all of his scattered papers, not even glancing up. He figured whomever he had run into would silently curse him and then continue on their way. The last thing he was expecting to see was a hand reaching out to help him up, just as he had gotten his briefcase secured. It was a pale and slender hand, small and smooth. He glanced up, confused, and found himself staring into the innocently kind, young face of a twenty-something year old woman. He let her help him up, and then she handed him back his grungy hat, which she had first gone to retrieve.
“Thanks,” he mumbled shyly, almost embarrassedly. He tried to give a small smile, which ended up feeling more like an awkward grimace. He quickly stopped, not wanting to scare her off just because those muscles were so out of practice.
“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” she said in her sweet-sounding, high pitched voice. “This probably won’t make up for it, but maybe it will put you in a better mood.” She reached behind her to a small stand that was set up in front of a modest little shop, and gave him two things he had not received in awhile. One was a simple white daisy, and the other was a genuine, sunny smile. He took the flower from her, unsure what to say other than another mumbled thanks, and wished he could take the smile too. It was a pleasant change to the world of frowns he had been living in. The girl had been right though. It had helped. Gone were all thoughts of suicide. After months of disappointments, frustrations, regrets, and depression, this one simple act of kindness was like finding water in the desert. It was salvation.
Everyday thereafter, he stopped by her flower shop on the way home. Sometimes he would buy bouquets, and sometimes he would just look through the colorful bright world that was the flower shop, so different from his dreary and gray everyday life. He never thought of the girl as anything more than a simple acquaintance, she was just someone who did not see him as a letdown, but he looked forward to these few minutes as the highlights of his days. Slowly, he started to see the good in life. He began to enjoy himself more and more, and then other aspects of his life began to seem better too. Soon enough, the two got into a routine. The girl would try to find a new flower to give him daily. No matter how beautiful the flower she showed him, his favorite was always the white daisy, which had first shown him that there was still compassion in the world.
♠ ♠ ♠
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