The Man Who Loved Flowers, page 1
Stephen King
The Man Who Loved Flowers
On an early May evening in 1963, a young man walked quickly up Third Avenue in New York City. He kept one hand in his pocket. The air was very soft and fresh. It was starting to get dark. The color of the sky slowly changed from blue to soft purple. It was just one of those city nights that make some people love the city so much. People leaving cafes, restaurants and shops in the evening, or simply standing at their doors, smiled blissfully. An old lady who came out of the grocery store with two huge bags smiled welcomingly at the young man:
- Hey, handsome!
He also answered her with a half-smile and lazily raised his free hand in greeting.
SHE WATCHED HIM WITH A TOUCHING LOOK AND THOUGHT: “THE TERRIBLY IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE, NOT OTHERWISE.”
That's exactly what he looked like. He was wearing a light gray suit, his skinny tie slightly loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. His dark hair is cut short and neat. The light blue eyes were the eyes of a very decent man. There was nothing remarkable about his face, but on that soft spring evening in May 1963 on Third Avenue in New York, he really WAS handsome, and the elderly woman found herself nostalgically recalling her own youth and thinking that that in spring everyone is beautiful who is in a hurry to go on a date, who is expecting a pleasant lunch or dinner together, and then, perhaps, dancing. Spring is perhaps the only time of the year when nostalgia is not a burden, and she was very pleased that she greeted this dear young man and that he waved his hand back to her.
With an energetic gait and the same half-smile on his lips, the young man crossed to the other side of 63rd Street. After walking half a block, he saw an old man with a light green cart full of flowers. These were mainly yellow daffodils and late crocuses. There were also carnations and a few tea roses - also mostly yellow or white. He chewed cornflakes and listened to the bulky transistor that sat on the corner of the cart.
The radio was broadcasting bad news that no one was listening to: the maniac killer had not yet been caught, there was still no good news from a small Asian country called Vietnam (the announcer pronounced this name “Whitenam”) - all we had to do was wait for now, in East River River, the body of a woman was found - the identity has not been established, the New York State jury was unable to prove the involvement of some members of the state administration in the story of a large batch of heroin - another battle in the war against the drug mafia was lost, the Russians conducted another nuclear test. All this seemed somehow unreal that evening and did not bother anyone at all. The air was soft and warm. The two men, their bellies drooping from beer, counted their nickels and occasionally exchanged friendly, playful punches. Spring gradually turned into summer, and summer in the city was the time for romantic dreams.
The young man walked past the florist, and the announcer’s voice gradually faded behind him. Then he suddenly stopped and, thoughtful, turned around. After hesitating a little, he took his wallet out of the breast pocket of his jacket and, looking inside, put it back. Then he touched some object in another pocket, and for a moment an expression of puzzlement, loneliness and some kind of almost driven or downtrodden appearance appeared on his face. He put his hand into another pocket, and the expression of impatient expectation of something very pleasant for him returned to his face.
Smiling, he headed back to the flower cart. He will buy her flowers - she will be very pleased. He loved watching her eyes light up - she just loved surprises. Usually these were small, modest gifts, since he could not be called particularly rich. As a rule, it was, for example, a box of lollipops or some inexpensive decorative bracelet, and once he presented her with a whole bag of Valencia oranges, knowing that this variety was her favorite.
The florist greeted a young man in a gray suit returning to his cart with a genuinely sincere exclamation:
- My young friend!
The old man was maybe sixty-eight years old, and despite the rather warm weather, he was wearing a worn, warm knitted sweater, also gray, and a soft felt hat. His face was crisscrossed with deep wrinkles, his narrowed eyes were watery, and his hand holding the cigarette trembled like an old man. But he also remembered very well what youth was and what spring was like, when you don’t walk, but literally soar above the ground, barely touching it with your feet. Usually the flower boy's face was sour, but now he smiled almost the same way that old lady smiled at this young man. Shaking off the crumbs of corn flakes, he thought: “If this young man is sick with love, he needs to be taken care of immediately.”
— How much do your flowers cost? - asked the young man.
- I'll make you a nice bouquet for a dollar. And here are tea roses grown in a greenhouse. They cost more - seventy cents per one. I can sell you half a dozen of them for just three dollars and fifty cents.
- A bit expensive.
“Good things are never cheap, my young friend.” Didn't your mom ever tell you about this?
“Maybe she did,” the young man grinned.
- Of course I did. I will make you a bouquet of six tea roses: two red, two yellow and two white. These are my best flowers, and you can see for yourself. Their smell will turn the head of any little one. I'll add two or three more sprigs of fern to them. Wonderful. Or I can make a regular bouquet for a dollar.
- These? - asked the young man, continuing to smile.
“My young friend,” said the florist, also smiling and shaking the ash from his cigarette into the drainage grate, “in May no one buys flowers for himself.” It's like a national law. Do you understand what I am talking about?
The young man tilted his head a little and imagined Norma - her surprised and happy eyes and soft smile.
“I think I understand,” he replied.
- Of course you understand. So what will you take?
- So what would you advise?
- Well, I'll tell you. Free advice and consultations?
“Perhaps it’s better for free,” the young man answered with a smile.
- Well, free, so free, okay, my young friend. If you want to buy flowers for your mother, then I can pick you a bouquet of several daffodils, crocuses and steppe lilies. When she sees them, she won’t say anything to you like, “Oh, son, I like them so much, but they’re probably very expensive—you shouldn’t waste your money like that.”
The young man threw his head back and laughed loudly.
“But if it’s a girl,” the flower boy continued, “then it’s a completely different matter, my son.” You probably understand it yourself. If you bring her a bouquet of tea roses, she will have no time to count. A? She will immediately rush into your arms...
“I’ll take the tea roses,” the young man said quickly.
At this point the flower boy burst out laughing. Beer lovers standing nearby and counting their coppers were distracted from their urgent task and also began to smile.
- Hey guy! - one of them shouted. - Don't you need an engagement ring? I can give it to you on the cheap. I'm kind of tired of wearing it myself.
The young man smiled and blushed to the very roots of his hair.
The florist chose six roses for him, trimmed the tips of their stems a little, sprinkled water on the buds and wrapped them. their beautiful crispy paper.
“The weather this evening is just what you would like,” came from the radio speaker. — The air is soft and warm. The sky is clear. The temperature is just above sixty degrees. Perfect weather for romantic stargazing after it gets dark. Enjoy the Great New York Evening!
The florist secured the paper bundle with tape and advised the young man to tell his girlfriend to add a little sugar to the vase of water so that the flowers would last longer.
Favorite flowers of famous women
pixabay.com The eighth of March is approaching. Men are already attacking the flower tents. Most stick to the classic option - they give roses, which will always be in trend. Especially red ones. By the way, Marilyn Monroe, who loved being the center of attention, loved them very much.
On the eve of the Arguments of the Week holiday, we became interested in what flowers other famous women highlight. Roses. Popular always and everywhere. The poetess Anna Akhmatova went crazy for burgundy roses. Huge bouquets of these flowers inspired her creativity. Madonna also loves roses (but the singer will not refuse lilies). Valeria will be more pleased with white roses, and Nyusha with pink ones. Britney Spears enjoys roses of any color, but white is her priority. It will not be a revelation to anyone that roses, especially red ones, are preferred by passionate natures . Tulips. Along with roses, March 8th holds a leading position in sales . These flowers can be safely called a symbol of women's holiday. The star of Russian TV series Anna Snatkina loves white tulips. When the actress saw her future husband with such a bouquet and strawberries in the doorway of the hospital room, she immediately realized that this was her man. Vera Brezhneva also loves tulips . Women who breathe unevenly towards tulips are reliable life partners; they are able to find an approach to any person . For all their outward openness, these girls are actually quite mysterious. Mimosa . Another symbol of the holiday. This is the favorite flower of American film actress Halle Berry . Sensitivity and tenderness are the main features of mimosa-loving girls. Orchids . These flowers bring joy to Angelina Jolie, Audrey Hepburn . Tina Kandelaki is also delighted with them . Svetlana Ivanova also collected a whole collection of orchids at home . It is believed that orchid lovers are especially similar to the adored flower. These are very complex and extraordinary personalities . New impressions and beautiful things help them cope with negative emotions. There should be a very sensitive and caring man next to them. Slightly less popular on March 8th, but no less beautiful, are irises , which Kristina Orbakaite , chrysanthemums - favorites of Edith Piaf , as well as gerberas - leaders in Maria Poroshina’s . And Dina Garipova admires the original passionflower .
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