When I walked into the lobby, I of course immediately noticed the humungous - in comparison to the tiny space - flower arrangement, wrapped in yellow and sitting on the radiator. Assuming it sat in wait of some elderly woman on the third floor, I continued up the stairs, until our doorman stopped me: "Um, Chloe, these are for your dad." Utterly surprised, I reached for the bouquet. It was, after all, Daddy's birthday, but flowers had never before appeared. "There's a first time for everything," K told me. When I got upstairs, I set them down on the table and examined the card; From my grandmother!
Why did it matter who they were from? Was it because I've never gotten flowers either? My dad always used to tell me he was unpopular until high school. It was something we could relate about. Now, here I am! High school! Did something forget to tell tech to flip the switch? The reality is I don't need flowers. They smell nice, but eventually my cat will find a way to eat them anyway. So I don't need that - I mean them - no, I mean that.
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