She looked mediocre, at best. Although if one paid attention to details, they would notice the effort she put into combing her hair down to a near perfect sheen. They would see that she was wearing her best clothes, a laced white button down with a black skirt. Not the best per se, but her best.
Then there he was, clad in a white Oxford and dark blue denims. Not his best, but far too good in her eyes. It rained relentlessly and the pitter patter of every drop drowned any attempt of a conversation, a "Hello."
He held the umbrella in one hand, and with the other embraced her. She thought of how to describe the warmth, like chestnuts roasting in an open fire, like a campfire in the cold of night, like a fireplace during winter. But no, none of it did it justice. The warmth of his arms around her amidst the wind that blew against her skin was one that words could not materialize.
She got into the car and on the seat rested a flower too used for its own good.
A single red rose.
It was commercial, it was cheesy and it was..
perfect.
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