Happy Valentine's Day

It wasn’t a warm day, but it wasn’t terribly cold either. She was wearing a light gray sweater and a yellowing white t-shirt. Her ragged jeans dangled white thread onto her scuffed and torn shoes. She was a bit dirty but she was pretty; she was a cute little girl. Her dark hair hung tangled and greasy to her shoulders, and she hid her deep brown eyes behind the mess. The cars flew past her, most unaware of her existence; they were far too busy to notice the insignificant girl. Her dark, tanned skin was radiant despite the thin layer of dirt and car exhaust from the day’s work. She stood on a busy off-ramp, alone but with an air of independence about her. In her right hand she tightly gripped a withering bouquet of red roses, and a bucket of many more bouquets hung in her left. Her innocent eyes pleaded with each driver willing to acknowledge her presence. All but a few ignored her requests. Her eyes clearly said, “Please buy a flower,” and one could almost hear her sweet, accented voice. She needed money to take home to her family.

A young boy fiddled with his iPod in the back seat of the family suburban. His sisters bickered in front of him about what song to listen to on the radio. He drowned out the cacophony with a loud song on the MP3 player to fit his mood. He munched on a few pretzels and angrily eyed his empty can of soda. The family flew down the freeway on a trip to visit the grandparents. He slouched in the seat and struggled against his seatbelt, trying to get comfortable. He mouthed the lyrics to his song and gazed out the window, eyes half shut in boredom. He pulled out his phone to see if anyone had texted or called. No one had. The boy tossed his phone on the seat beside him and unzipped his new black jacket. He had worked that day, out in the yard, but only got paid twenty dollars for all the hard work he did. He was showered and well dressed as he sat in the back seat with his music. The temperature in the car was a little too high for his taste but he didn't comment. They flew off the freeway and screeched to a halt at a red light. The boy lazily stared out the window and saw a little girl. She was holding roses, red roses.

She slowly bent and picked up a fallen rose petal from the ground. She gazed at it peacefully but tears silently jumped from her eyes. She was content but she suddenly felt very alone and isolated. She glanced to her right and then to her left. The small, dark girl finally crouched to the pavement and pressed the rose petal firmly against the asphalt. She pulled the petal toward her along the ground, leaving a dark trail of petal juice on the pavement. She formed a letter. Slowly she formed three more letters after the first and looked at her work. The word was distinct. A tear floated from her cheek and landed on the ground. She knelt and added a question mark to the word.

He set down his cell phone and put away his iPod. The boy stared at the little girl. She wasn’t much younger than him, but her face not only expressed youth but also a strange sense of wisdom and understanding, a weathered face despite the childhood. She knelt to the ground with a red thing in her hand, probably a petal. The boy heard his sisters complaining about the length of the red light but he paid no attention to them for he was focused on the girl. He stared at the word hard, trying to decipher what she had written. The word suddenly jumped from the pavement as he realized what was printed. The girl then bent down and carefully formed a question mark. Tears came to the boy's eyes.

She pushed back the tears and stood up. The little girl looked to the cars waiting at the light and searched for any gaze that would return hers. She saw a boy, with brown hair and piercing eyes wet from some unknown emotion. She looked at him carefully and held up the roses, pleading.

The girl looked straight at him and lifted the roses in his direction. Her beautifully deep, brown eyes pleaded with him. He wanted to buy the flowers. The light turned green as he reached for his wallet and the car lurched forward. A quiet cry of surprise and distress escaped his lips but he kept his eyes locked with hers, apologizing. His sisters looked back at him and asked what the problem was. He replied with a quiet “nothing.” He hung his head and closed his eyes, touched and confused by the strange encounter.

She watched him even as the car sped away. She was surprised by the short-lived encounter. It seemed that he was the first person to truly see her all day long. Her foot began to scuff at the liquid text on the ground before her. One more tear dropped on the remains of what had been written: Love?