Strawberry Apologies (Closed)
Jul 26, 2011 16:49:14 GMT -5
Post by Joshua Bernstein on Jul 26, 2011 16:49:14 GMT -5
Sean's house came into view long before he'd arrived; it was huge, a veritable castle hidden in the wilds of Vermont. Josh couldn't tell if anyone was home, though for once he prayed that they weren't. He wasn't supposed to be here, not when he'd been explicitly informed that the telepath needed space.
Instead he had a strawberry shortcake, a bouquet of flowers (apple blossoms, tulips, and hyacinths) and a bottle of white zinfandel with a card attached to the neck. This was all meant as an apology to Sean for the way he'd behaved the last two months.
He carefully pedaled up the winding driveway, parking at the front door. There was no sign of life behind the windows; this gave him encouragement. Perhaps he wouldn't run into Sean and disturb his peace today.
He placed the cake in front of the door, arranging the flowers and wine beside it and propping the card up against the wine. While the cake itself clearly spelled out his intent with strawberry slices reading I'm sorry, the card -- little more than a placard with some flowery design on the front -- had a slightly more detailed apology scrawled across it.
Dear Sean,
I know you wanted space but I still feel that I haven't properly apologized. I behaved horribly toward both you and Dr. Jones and I deeply regret this. Please accept this cake as a token of my sincerity,
Josh
He took a step backward, making sure his apology was presentable, before hoisting himself on his bike and making his way back toward his own home, and bed and beer.
Perhaps eventually he could repair his friendship. He hoped this was a start.
Instead he had a strawberry shortcake, a bouquet of flowers (apple blossoms, tulips, and hyacinths) and a bottle of white zinfandel with a card attached to the neck. This was all meant as an apology to Sean for the way he'd behaved the last two months.
He carefully pedaled up the winding driveway, parking at the front door. There was no sign of life behind the windows; this gave him encouragement. Perhaps he wouldn't run into Sean and disturb his peace today.
He placed the cake in front of the door, arranging the flowers and wine beside it and propping the card up against the wine. While the cake itself clearly spelled out his intent with strawberry slices reading I'm sorry, the card -- little more than a placard with some flowery design on the front -- had a slightly more detailed apology scrawled across it.
Dear Sean,
I know you wanted space but I still feel that I haven't properly apologized. I behaved horribly toward both you and Dr. Jones and I deeply regret this. Please accept this cake as a token of my sincerity,
Josh
He took a step backward, making sure his apology was presentable, before hoisting himself on his bike and making his way back toward his own home, and bed and beer.
Perhaps eventually he could repair his friendship. He hoped this was a start.
