It wasn’t until I was inside my room above the bakery, that I noticed I was missing my flowers. I froze and thought back to the coffee shop. We were sitting. He had whispered his name and some numbers; numbers that were etched into the back of my eyes.
I had seen them in restaurant windows, daily specails, and on street signs.
But with the numbers and the name I remembered seeing him turn the corner, just before he walked out of my line of vision, I had seen a flash of a sunset. My bouquet.
I chuckled and walked over to the couch that forever smelled like sugar cookies. As I sat down I pulled out my cell phone.
Call him.
Call him not.
Call him
Call him not.
That had to be what that numbers were- his phone number.
I called him. I got a robotic, even voiced female telling me to check my number and redail.
So if it wasn’t his number? What was it?