Sunflowers? No. Roses? Carnations?

Rhett Abbott was completely lost, standing like a lost calf in the middle of the flower section of the supermarket.

He wanted to buy you some flowers, just a little pick me up—and an apology for how much of an idiot he can be sometimes.

He felt like a fish out of water, the different arrangements of flowers taunting him—why were some so extravagant, looking more like a fireworks display than a bouquet of flowers?

An employee eventually had to come help him, picking up on how completely lost he’d looked. She’d tried to parse out what kind of flowers you liked, and the best response that Rhett could give her was that you liked “pretty ones”.

An hour and much difficulty later, Rhett left the store with a mixed bouquet—daisies, roses, and chrysanthemums—he’d hoped that you would enjoy what was picked.

He worries about his choice the whole drive back home, turning the thought over in his mind when he parks his truck in the driveway.

It was such a simple thing—flowers—but he wanted to do it right.

Rhett unlocks the front door, and he can see that you’re in the kitchen, very likely making some lunch for the two of you; he had said that he’d be back before lunchtime.

He makes his way into the kitchen, clearing his throat awkwardly. He holds the bouquet in his hands, fingers flexing and crinkling the cellophane they’re wrapped in.

“I, uh—picked these up for you today.”