The town square shone golden as the flare of the sun lit up the road’s - normally dull - yellow bricks, framed today with vibrant orange chrysanthemums, yellow sunflowers, red roses and tomatoes and scattered with people; like a painting of life, for today was market day.

Ronald stood by his stall of roses, and passed money back and forth as usual. Periodically he sprayed the flowers with mist to stop them wilting in the heat, and as the water hit them they would set free the most wonderful smell. Today, somehow, everyone seemed to be smiling, and somehow, he just couldn’t stop smiling himself, like he used to. He smiled at his customers, they smiled back. It was a sweet, nostalgic feeling.

As the day drifted on and the customers started to peter out, he tried not to pack up just yet, wanting only for the day to go on forever.

The rose man lent on his elbows against one of the shelves and listened to the sound of the fountain, imagining himself in other people’s lives. The café’s tables occupied the plaza ahead of his eyes, so after a while he naturally drifted into watching the people instead. They came and went; a pair of old ladies looking through their shopping; some furtive looking teenagers in black shirts; one beautiful, long haired, blonde young lady, sipping her coffee and chatting livelily. He watched that one for a long time, thinking things he shouldn’t have and wishing that he were younger, although in truth he had never been in her league even in his prime.

Then he noticed that the handsome, attractively stubbled young man sitting at a table on his own was looking at him. Ronald looked back in response; after a moment the man nodded slightly and stood up. As he approached, the rose man noted in his stride the confidence that he had never had.

“Hey.” Ronald smiled slightly in response. The guy pulled a note out of his pocket. “I’ll have…” he looked up and down the stall, and pulled out one perfect, wine red rose. Then he passed over the note, thanked him, and, grinning as he spun around, waved the flower in the air as a sort of goodbye.

Ronald watched as the man strode over to the table and without hesitation handed the flower to the beautiful girl as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He was saying something to her as she blushed, speechless. Then, he turned to go, but the girl stopped him and invited him to sit down, which he did, with a somewhat knowing look on his face, Ronald thought.

They talked, laughed, kissed; and just as it was impressing upon him that he really needed to pack up his things now, they got up and left together, she clutching her rose to her breast, leaving behind her friends. Ronald watched them until they were out of sight, feeling lonely but happy at the same time, in a strange way. Someone wanted a bunch of roses, so he wrapped one up and sold it, then set about packing up his stall.

That night, he tried to draw some affection from his wife, but she turned away. Ronald gave up and stared at the ceiling, still thinking about the young couple.

He never knew how the young man would get up and leave the girl in the early morning with no intention of returning. In a way, it didn’t matter.