Over the next few weeks, Mr. Hand began to show up at the movie theatre where Anna worked. Sometimes he brought her coffee from her favourite shop, two creams and one sugar, just the way she liked it. One time he brought her a single flower, a small blue one with tantalizing cup-like petals. She had blushed furiously and giggled over it like a schoolgirl. She pressed it when she got home and a few days later got it laminated on a dove coloured strip of paper with a cute poem printed on it. She used it as a book mark.
John didn't notice anything. But that didn't bother her. They still went up to Shell Beach, but Anna was finding herself thinking of what Mr. Hand was doing without her. She couldn't imagine him at home. She tried once, but couldn't even begin to think of what he wore underneath his black coat. The idea of him in a wife-beater and boxers like John in the mornings was so absurd it almost made her laugh out loud.
Months had gone by and Anna was flipping through a magazine when one of her co-workers, a young thing named Rosa tapped her shoulder. "Anna," she squealed, "Mr. Hand is here to see you."
"Really?" Anna skittered down the hallway that led out of the ticket booth to the entrance of the theatre. Mr. Hand was indeed there and cradled in his arm was a large bouquet of flowers. Anna darted back into the hallway. Her heart was pounding and she turned to Rosa, who had accompanied her out of curiosity.
"What's the occasion?" Rosa asked, amused to see her normally composed co-worker so flustered. Anna shook her head mutely. "Well go out there and see him!" Rosa exclaimed, nudging her out.
Anna took a few breaths to steady her giddy nerves. "Mr. Hand!" she called out. He turned to face her, a huge smile lighting his face. It was in strange juxtaposition with his dark attire, but Anna thought he had one of the most amazing smiles she had ever seen.
"For you," Mr. Hand presented the bouquet. Anna took them and laughed embarrassedly. "What's the occasion?"
"We met six months ago, yes?" Mr. Hand touched the brim of his hat, "At the river landing. Remember?"
Anna nodded, breathing in the flowers' aroma. John had never gotten her flowers, even when she hinted heavily. He always bought her chocolate. Mr. Hand had picked up the subconscious (and sometimes purposeful) hints she dropped and bought her the very bouquet she would have picked for herself.
"Come to the landing tonight, yes," Mr. Hand insisted with his unusual cadence. "I have another surprise for you."