I work at a little flower stall on the corner of a busy street.
It’s a peaceful job—early mornings, fresh blooms, and the occasional friendly face. For the past couple of weeks, this same guy has been stopping by. Five times now, to be exact. Each time, he buys a single rose, and instead of keeping it, he gently hands it to me. No words. Just a soft smile, a little nod,
and then he walks away.At first, I thought he was just shy or maybe trying to work up the courage to talk. It was cute in a quiet, mysterious sort of way. But today, when he showed up again, right on cue, I couldn’t hold my curiosity back any longer. As he handed me the rose, I finally blurted out, “Okay, let’s finally get to know each other. Who are you?”He paused for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
On it, he’d written a simple message that stopped me in my tracks: I’m deaf and mute. I come here because I like seeing you smile.” I didn’t know what to say. My heart swelled in that moment—touched by a quiet kind of kindness I didn’t even realize I’d been receiving all along.
