Daisies

'Hmmm, which bouquet will she love?' George thought to himself. 

"Sir, what are you thinking? You've been standing here for more than half an hour!" Asked the florist.

"What, me? Oh my, really it's been too long. But that's not my fault, why don't you guys have roses? I usually get roses for her but..."

"We did, actually. Someone bought all of them this morning to present his wife on her birthday."

'Lucky man, could make his love happy.' he thought, slightly disappointed at not being able to get even one rose for his beloved. 

"Do you want to present your wife as well?"

"Yes, roses. She loved them. But her name is Daisy, what an irony."

"You ever got her daisies? We got this pretty bouquet here, some daisies, pink, yellow, white..."

"I mean, I never thought about it. Okay, I'll get her something else for her birthday."

"You think she'll like it? Thank me later."

"Haha, my friend, thank you." He said with a smile.

He walked down the narrow Church Street Boulevard, admiring the bouquet. Maybe she would like it, afterall they are daisies! Daisy wouldn't like daisies? Why would she like roses more than daisies?

Why did he like Rose better than Daisy, he should have known better. Youth, impulsive youth, it makes you do things you regret horribly later in life. Maybe she had forgiven him, after all this time.

He laid the bouquet in front of the polished gravestone.

'Daisy Correira, 6th August 1976- 6th August 2017.'

"Happy Birthday, Daisy. I miss you."