As he walked through the rain, the man looked up for no real reason, and stopped.

He stood there, unable to move as the rain poured down, running over his face.

He had passed the same little diner every day. It was not anything special. A hole in the wall place, with a long counter for customers to sit at, with booths against the walls that looked older than they should.

Everyday, he passed the little diner, never taking notice of the place really. It just became a blur, in the background picture of the city.

Today, though… Today was different. When he had looked through the glass, everything that was a mere image to him, left focus even farther, when his eyes snapped to something else.

A young woman, with brunette hair.

She took the person’s order, then walked toward to the back, hanging the ticket for the cook.

The man watched as she paused before returning to the customers, leaning over slightly to smell a flower that sat in a drinking glass on the counter. When she smelled the flower, a smile spread across her face, causing her cheeks to lift slightly.

The man felt his heart jump, as he watched her, not realizing that the rain had soaked him to the skin.

The next day, the man showed up at the little diner and walked in out of the rain.

He walked up to the counter, the young woman standing there, and he found he could not speak.

The young woman turned to him, and could see that he was shy, so she said nothing, waiting for the man to speak, but he never did.

The man pulled a pink rose from the inside of his jacket, where he had protected it from the rain, and wind, and slowly held it out for the young woman.

The young woman took the rose from the man. She brought it to her nose and inhaled slowly, letting the scent of the rose carry her.

She smiled at the man, and he smiled back. Joy lighting up his face, he turned and left.

The man returned every day, with a single rose.

Every day, the young woman would smile after smelling the rose.

And every day, the man would light up, and turn and leave.

After a month, when the man had brought the rose and had given it to the young woman, he turned to leave, but the young woman touched his arm.

The man stopped and turned back to her.

The young woman handed the rose back to him. “I cannot take the rose,” she said.

“Why not?” asked the man, sadly.

“I am not the same woman I was when you met me.”

The man smiled and placed the rose back in her hand.

The man continued to smile as he leaned in and kissed her cheek softly, “Neither is the rose.”

Enjoy what you do.