The week blew by in the hot summer wind of New York City and I laid in bed pondering on whether I should return to the dream world or perhaps get up and make something of my day. I chose the latter and grumpily got out of bed.

My hair lay in tufts on my head and I feared my reflection in the mirror. Like a picture slide show, my mind showed me glances of when I was fourteen and my hair had yet to be tamed. The endless mornings of fluffed up, knotted hair always gave me shivers and this morning had been no different as goosebumps overcame me. I left my bedroom and swiftly started a fresh pot of coffee. I turned my television on and watched the morning news as I always did, every Saturday morning.

I stuck two pieces of whole wheat bread into the stainless steel toaster I had gotten for Christmas from my mother and waited patiently while listening to the hum of a reporter in the background. Apparently there had been a homeless people riot near the Lower East Side.

Nothing much had happened during the week. Ty had not made another appearance and as much as I tried to ignore it, I found myself curious. Why did he and Peter dislike each other so much? This question had occupied my mind often during meetings at which Peter was always the center of attention pointing out numbers on large charts. Maybe Peter, being the oldest sibling, did not like how much freedom Ty received from his parents?

Peter disliking Ty was one thing, the other had to do with why Ty disliked Peter. Ty did not appear the type that would want to take over the company and the responsibilities that an older sibling would receive by birth right, so what was his issue?

The coffee finished filtering and I buttered my two slices of toast, which had popped up seconds before and I blindly watched the television, not really paying attention.

About fifteen minutes later I was turning off the television and preparing myself for a hot, much deserved shower and I casually glimpsed at the clock on the wall, eleven- fifty-five.

While preparing, unbeknownst to me I was slowly changing my planned schedule. It was little things, like using the yellow towel for my hair instead of the white one. Or using Lavender soap instead of Rose, these little things would have been a sure fire sign to me that I was changing, but I was, of course, oblivious.

I undressed and stepped under the hot water of the shower and slowly ran my fingers through my tangled hair, flinching at an occasional knot. I was rinsing my hair of the shampoo that I had applied, again Lavender instead of Rose, when I heard the doorbell ring. I sighed and quickly reached for my robe as I swiftly stepped out of the shower.

"Just a second," I yelled as I rushed to the door, tightly closing my bathrobe around my still wet body.

On the fourth doorbell ring I opened it and was faced by a middle aged woman carrying a large bouquet of roses and a card. I stared wide-eyed as she asked me casually, "Are you miss Alexandra Fuentes?"

I wordlessly nodded and closed the door after I had awkwardly accepted the delivery. My mind blank, I placed the roses on my kitchen counter and slowly opened the envelope that contained a beautifully designed card.


Work has been stressful and therefore I haven't been able to have a proper conversation with you. I'm sorry you had to witness the scene by the elevators, Ty has always been a very tense subject in our family. I hope you like roses, I haven't sent flowers to a woman in a long time, and all that came to mind were these roses. The reason why I send these is because I would love the opportunity to take you out to dinner. I will not take 'no' for an answer; I will pick you up tomorrow at seven o'clock p.m. Please don't mind my blunt nature, I just simply did not know how else to approach you.

p.s. I found your address under the workers' information, so at least that is one answer I can give you.


I closed the card and blankly stared at the roses. Twelve. There were twelve roses. I picked one out of the dozen and pricked my finger on a thorn.

I watched the small trickle of blood flow down my finger and put the letter down. Apparently I had a date tomorrow; not only was it not in my plans, but I also had no idea what to wear.

The End

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