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“Convincing.”
I demonstrate how to trim the stems and arrange the blooms at different heights.
“See? You want balance. A little movement. Nothing too stiff.”
He watches my hands.
“Like this?”
He picks up a rose.
His fingers dwarf the delicate stem, yet he handles it with astonishing care.
I nod.
“Exactly.”
He adds another.
Then another.
After several minutes, he presents his creation.
I stare.
It’s…
Well.
It’s certainly something.
A crooked collection of roses, eucalyptus, and one extremely confused sunflower juts from his enormous fist.
The stems point in approximately twelve different directions.
A ribbon hangs from the bottom like a wounded snake.
I bite my lip.
“That’s…”
He waits.
“Very creative.”
His eyes narrow.
“You dislike it.”
“No!”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Little flower.”
I burst out laughing.
“Okay, it’s terrible.”
