The 23rd

April 23. Another day for another bouquet of flowers from a man she met just once, two years ago.

April 23. The month was not as relevant as the date. A dinner date crashed by the handsome man whom she did save his life. A handsome stranger whose features she hardly remembered. A grateful stranger who sent her flowers on the 23rd of every month since the incidence two years ago. The beautiful flowers that skipped the month of march.

Today, her handsome stranger’s flowers have not been delivered. Perhaps, he had gone broke or forgotten or who knows what. She couldn’t complain. Two years of flowers were enough for her for a lifetime.

It was not until 23 o’clock on the 23rd of April, her doorbell was rung and the delivery man delivered to her a bouquet of flowers and_ for the first time_ a gold engraved letter. It was addressed to her and it read;

I sincerely apologize for last month’s missing delivery. And I wish, with your permission if granted, to treat you to a nice dinner. I ashamedly say you know the dinner venue. I hope to meet you there by 8pm tommorow.
Yours sincerely,


To a stranger who with time had won her heart she went to bed, blushing.



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