Thoughts of who the woman was occupied Derick's mind to such an extent that he was incapable of moving from the scene for quite some time. The part of his brain that was not so occupied, a very small part, attempted to argue that moving was a far better use of brain power.
Whoever the woman was and where she had gone was not something which his brain would likely be able to extrapolate an answer to in the next several minutes. The large angry man on the other hand was very likely to return, and the odds would favor an appearance of several of his friends... equally large and angry. This reality came crashing down to such an extent that Derick was able to pull his mind away from the woman and begin to move his feet.
All thoughts of the bookstore had vanished and yet his brain insisted on finishing the last twenty-five steps. Without a will or a choice his feet carried him to the bookstore. As he approached the red brick building with the neat white and blue awnings over picture-glass windows he swept a strand of dark hair from his eyes and noticed a florist shoppe next to the bookstore.
Flower, he would buy the woman flowers. The sign on the front door stated that they were currently closed, a condition not entirely surprising given the late hour. Derick nodded to himself and determined to come back the next day.
The steps to the florist were an additional fifteen steps beyond the bookstore and as he walked them he pondered how to ensure that his lady, for over the course of the evening that is how he'd begun to think of her, would receive his gift.
His lady, in her overwhelming gratitude he was certain, had forgotten to leave her name and her telephone number. An oversight that he was certain was causing her much grief this very moment.
On the final step he paused, he would leave the flowers with a note containing his name and address... she would want to thank him in person. And he would leave the flowers at the very location of his rescue of his lady. Uncertain of how to contact him a return to their place of meeting was of course the most logical step.
Inside the store he purchased a dozen blood red roses. They would compliment his lady's fair skin beautifully. He had to refrain from counting the number of flowers in the store and each petal in the bouquet. A number of times he shook his head, this was not a time to count... he must woo his lady.
Thirty steps later he was again in the ally of his daring rescue of the previous evening. (Unable to make sense of what had happened his mind had taken liberty in explaining the event.) There was no one in sight as he gently laid the roses on the top of one of the trash cans, perhaps the very can with which he had beaten the thug into submission? Either way, she was sure to spot them immediately and read the card tucked gently among the blossoms.
Taking three steps back to survey the scene he nodded to himself, immensely satisfied, and continued along the three hundred and sixteen steps back to his apartment to wait for his lady's arrival.