I saw in his eyes a man who kept more secrets than he confided. He sat next to me every day on the train, at the same time, at the same stop, and I looked for him impatiently. He was funny; he told his fellow passengers all the little stories that happened to him throughout the day. He is a flower delivery man. “How nice! A florist…” That was what I thought the first time I heard him speak. As far as I could find out, every day he delivers about fifty bouquets of flowers to different people: mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, young people, and even some for illness or death. Before delivering the bouquets, he reads the dedications that the senders write on the cards and, of the one he likes the most, he takes a photo of it so that later, when he gets home, he can write it in a notebook to compile them all and thus be able to remember them all. He says that each of these cards has a story and that together they form a set of stories that he would like to share.

Even though I have to go back and forth all day, it is worth the effort to deliver the orders just to see the happy face they have when they see me and know that it is for them. You cannot imagine the magic that their eyes give off.
I love that he shares these little stories, that he collects them and that he reads the dedications printed on the cards every day; this way, train journeys become much more enjoyable for me, even because I imagine how the stories can end: if he liked it, if he didn't, if they don't get married in the end, if he recovers from his illness... There are so many to share! And I think that he has one that he likes above all the others and it is the one that he keeps only for himself.
I would also love to experience them in person, as he does; in addition, I would interview each of these people because they all have something to share, and what I would learn!