Flower boy
Short story
P. Mirfakhraei
March 2, 2005
iranian.com
He is so small he can barely reach their windows.
They come in all shapes and sizes. Some shiny and new, some dirty
and old. When
he looks at them coming toward him at the intersection, he sees
faces instead of the car fronts. He likes to put faces on them
as a game to help pass the time between the green lights. Some
cars look like angry men and some look like smiling kids.
As the
light turns red he jumps out of the cool shadows. He hovers around
them, brandishing his large bouquet of pretty little flowers, in
hope of finding a buyer before they all go bad by the end of the
day. That means trouble with the boss. The pay will come out of
his pocket. Some people are nice enough to say "No, thank
you." But some are so bad-tempered that they scare him off
with a shout or threat. He searches their eyes hoping to find
some kind of a clue as to their willingness to indulge. "C'mon
only a 1000 for all of them. It's a bargain."
He can see them
looking at him. The two ladies in the smiling car. They are also
smiling so he approaches them. So few people actually smile these
days. "The small bunches are only 200. Take all and I'll give
you a discount." They continue to smile and say that two small
bunches would be enough. He pushes the flowers toward them, tiptoeing
to get to their outstretched hands. "Thank you, little boy." He
wishes they were all like that.
He takes the bills and as he moves
toward the cars in the back, quickly starts counting them. He stops
dead in his tracks. This is not right. They were supposed to pay
400. But there is 1000 here. That is not right. He rushes back
towards the car. Just as the light turns green, he catches up with
them. He quickly picks another three bunches and pushes them through
the open window. He can see the surprised look on their faces as
they turn around to look at him. The car speeds away, and he is
saying to himself, I earn an honest living here -- what do you
think? He has to quickly dock for cover as the cars start passing
through the intersection, honking and swiveling.
Only 100 more bunches to sell.
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