Last week I bought two roses, one red, one pink. I bought them from the same store a day apart. I bought them for different reasons.
My son designed my brand last year and ever since, I've dressed in a black suit and white shirt when appearing as Scott William Taylor, the author.
Sometimes, when I go to conventions, people ask me if I'm dressed as some character. I take out my author card and shown them my son's art. Then they understand. The rose I bought first--the red one--held up well, but it's pretty beat now. Sort of how I felt after the weekend.
The second rose I picked up on Friday. I was rushing between convention and my weekend gig to get some dinner. Just as I was about to check out, I saw all the pretty plants and flowers. And since I had not bought anything for our anniversary, I picked up a beautiful single rose and gave it to my wife after my shift ended.
I'm not a big buyer of flowers. I've done it occasionally, but it's something I usually don't think about doing. But for this past weekend, I bought red for the crowds and pink for my sweetie. Of the two, the pink was the most important.
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