Third person’s POV
In the early evening the next day Caleb drove to a flower boutique.
"Good evening sir." The florist greets. She was a petite woman wearing silver-framed glasses. She smiled at Caleb behind the counter. "Looking for something special for a special person?"
Caleb’s phone was still pressed to his ear, half-distracted. "Yes. Give me a moment." There was a woman's voice guiding him through.
"No, she's bold and very guarded."
The voice responded on the other end, "so she's not the tulip type. Then try deep red roses, it would come off sophisticated."
Caleb glanced at the rows of roses lined like soldiers. "Deep rose huh? You sure it isn't too cliché?"
"Not when it's coming from Caleb Standloff. " the voice chuckled. "You can literally turn any cliché into art."
The
