"Gerbera, sir? Only forty rupees." The boy thrust a bunch of flowers against my car-window at a traffic light.
I dismissed him with a shake of my head.
"Please, sir. Very nice gerberas." The kid persisted.
I looked at him. He couldn't be more than ten. At his age, I didn't know what money was. And he was earning his living. I reached for my wallet.
I didn't want the flowers. Perhaps I could give them to my octogenarian neighbour?
Her face lit up. "I can't believe you remembered my birthday."
The cake was delicious, the evening even more so.
A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.
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