“One’s Missing”

“One’s missing.”

“Pardon me?” the woman behind the counter looked confused.

“It’s supposed to be twelve red, six white, and six yellow. I count eleven red.”

“Are your sure?” the middle-aged woman with smooth, sun-kissed skin came from behind the counter. She interrupted the man, double and triple counting, taking the vase and turning her back to him, and placing the arrangement on the counter. The man gave her a smirk that she didn’t see, as he backed up. The woman bent over the counter, her shirt lifting from her behind. The man thought to himself how a woman has to have confidence, maybe even slight to fully-blown arrogance to wear white pants. She knew she didn’t disappoint as she stood up straight, fixing herself at the waist. “That’s odd — I know there were twelve here when I put this together this morning. I even counted before your son walked in, a couple of minutes before you did.

“Son?”

“Yes.” the woman played with the gold around her neck, her caramel skin showed hints of strawberry now. “That wasn’t your son?”

“No, ma’am.”

The woman leaned her back onto the counter as she faced the man who she felt was looking into her more than just at her. “I’d have to take one from another arrangement, or give you another dozen and keep these and sell them individually.