“A bobby pin works better, you know,” a girl says. I whirl around, so startled by her presence that I drop the metal wire. She grins, glowing with pride from having caught me in the act.  “Wha–” “Shh!” She glances down the alley. “You wouldn’t want anyone to hear you, now would you?” She approaches me with nimble steps, removes a black pin from her hair, which comes loose in wild curls. She holds the pin out to me, but when I reach for it, she snatches it away. There’s th

“Can I help you?” he asks  “I don’t know, can you?” He grins and my breath catches like a sweater on barbed wire. I hand him the bottle opener and he pops open the soda in one swift, cool motion. “Thanks,” I say, wary of the warmth in my cheeks. His green eyes reflect the glow of the string lights.  “No problem,” he says, then returns to the party.  “Can I join you?” he asks. “I don’t know, can you?” He shakes his head with a smile and sits down beside me on the bleache

"The first flowers a man gets are at his funeral," he says. I swear, my heart tears right down the middle. When he throws his bag over his shoulder, starts his car and heads off to work, I walk a block to the market down the street. I buy lilies, tulips, roses, red and white. I buy sunflowers, peonies, bouquets of flowers I don't even know the names of, but I don't care. The grocery store clerk looks at me like I'm crazy, but I don't care. I smile and say, "The first flower