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http://deepestdarkestengland.blogspot.com/2011/06/one-with-character.html
There is another rattle of my letterbox.
I rush downstairs.
I can see the outline of a man holding a bouquet of flowers through the glass.
“These are for you” he says. “I’m so sorry about your car.”
He has roses and lilies and ferns and carnations all tied up with a pinky-peach bow.
“There was no need,” I protest. “You should give them to your wife.”
But he insists on giving me the flowers.
And they do look lovely.
I had no idea that I would be given a bouquet today.
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