Gerber Daisies

She loved the gerber daises. At least he thought she loved them. The flower cart, always in the same spot, half a block from his office, two blocks further to hers. He would stop and breath, survey the tulips and lilies, orchids and dahlias, the peonies. As if his hand could reach for any one of them. As if any one of them could be plucked from their black bucket, water dripping from their glistening stems, wrapped in shiny crinkly paper, presented with a slight bow, arms outstretched . As if any one of them was so deserving.