I adjusted the pearl hairpin in the mirror for the third time, the lily-of-the-valley earrings swaying gently on my earlobes with the motion. The phone vibrated on the wooden vanity—it was a message from him: “Look up at the plane tree treetops when you come downstairs.”
As I pushed open the unit door, twilight trickled along the veins of the plane tree leaves. He stood beneath the third streetlamp, a freshly plucked lavender iris tucked in his white shirt pocket. The setting sun stretched his shadow so long it nearly touched the cream-colored bow on my canvas sneakers.
“Have you been waiting long?” I twisted the strap of my canvas bag, catching a faint whiff of cedar from his cuff. He smiled and shook his head, producing a brown paper bag from behind his back. The warm, sweet aroma of croissants instantly filled the air: “I passed by that bakery you’ve been wanting to try.”
When we settled at the outdoor café, neon signs began to flicker on one by one. He slid a strawberry waffle toward me, the mint leaf on the cream still glistening with dew: “The staff said it’s the last one today.” We talked about the glass marbles we’d collected as kids, and his orange cat that always knocked over flowerpots. Beads of condensation formed on the sides of our iced coffee glasses as the conversation flowed.
By the time we parted, the moon hung high in the sky. At my building entrance, he pulled a velvet box from his coat pocket. Inside, a lily-of-the-valley necklace trembled softly in the moonlight, mirroring the flowers on my earrings. “For our next date,” he said with a smile, “will you wear it for me?”
Leave a Reply