R Is For Roses
K
Megan is under the weather and recieives a little TLC

Only the computer and imagination belong to me

R Is For Roses

"I'm coming!" Megan called out as she pulled on her robe and headed for the front door. A nasty cold had kept her home for a few days and all she really wanted to door was stay in bed. Looking through the peephole, she saw a young man dressed in the uniform of one of the local florists. In his arms he held a vase with several perfect white roses. She cracked the door open enough to speak through it.

"Are you, Megan Reeves?" he asked.

"Yes." She opened the door wider.

"I have a delivery for you.," he replied handing over the flowers.

"Thank you," Megan said. she shut the door and reached for the card. A smile came over her face as she read what was written. "I heard you were ill. I hope these cheer you up. Larry."

"That is so sweet of you, Larry," she said and wennt to put the vase on her coffee table.

Another knock sounded at the door and she peered out, surprised to see the sender of flowers on her doorstep. "Come on in," she said opening the door.

"I thought I'd stop by and see if you were feeling better. I see you recieved the flowers I sent," he said.

"I did. They're my favorites. Thank you," Megan answered. "I'd give you a hug and a kiss but I don't think you'd want my cold."

"Not particularly," he replied. "I already had one courtesy of Charles."

"I think that's who I caught mine from. I was just about to make some chicken soup," Megan answered with a laugh.

"You know that the curative power of chicken soup is highly over rated. I prefer the noodle variety myself. Although my Aunt Louise made the most foul tasting soup," Larry was saying as he followed her into the kitchen. "I'll fix the soup while you go lay down on the couch."

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Megan asked watching him rummage in her cupboards.

"I've got everything in hand," he assured her.

Megan didn't look convinced but she went to the couch and laid down, pulling the crochet afghan over her shoulders.

"Lunch is served," he announced as he emerged from the kitchen balancing a tray containing a bowl of soup, crackers and a bottle of orange juice.

"You didn't have to go all this trouble," Megan said, taking the tray. "But I'm really glad you did."

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"Life is Like writing, there's a beginning and an ending. It's the inbetween time that makes up the story." ME Ryan