He was nervous for their date. Did he look okay? Should he have brought nicer flowers? Were daisies enough? He stared up at the red brick building where she lived. He was a few minutes early, probably best if he waited a moment. He looked up, counting the windows until he found the one she’d described to him. A little wind chime hung in the open window and after straining to listen he could hear the faint tinkling noise of the pieces of metal hitting each other ever-so-slightly in the mild breeze.

He crossed the street and checked his hair in the side mirror of a truck. Should he have gotten it cut? Then it would have that freshly cut look. If only he’d planned ahead and stopped by the barbers a few days ago.

The sun was getting lower, and half of her building was now in the shadow of the larger apartment building across the street. He looked down at his shoes and thought about the other pair he had on before a last-minute change at home. Should he have stuck with the chucks? He looked down at his button-down plaid shirt and noticed one side was longer than the other. Phew! Good catch. He unbuttoned and then righted the shirt, rebuttoning it.

He looked at his pocket watch. It was time. Exactly on time. He noticed she was always on time for work, the little coffee shop attached to his building. He couldn’t believe after hundreds of coffees he doesn’t even like that he finally got the nerve to talk to her, sit with her during her break, bring her little, thoughtful presents, and finally ask her out. And here he was, nervous like a little kid on the first day of school. He stepped out into the street and jumped as a truck honked its horn. He forgot to check for safety, and didn’t make the mistake again, looking both ways before crossing. As he approached the building he noticed a rectangular flower basin on a small brick wall and then saw it: the plant he’d given her the other day. She’d planted it.

With newfound conviction he walked up and pushed the little button that had her name next to it.