Someone brought them through security. They were screened and cleared. No threat, those stalks, those thorns, those thin-skinned petals.
So the two protagonists weren’t there in the departures area. They couldn’t be. Who’d bring pink roses through security and then present them? That happened when they said goodbye. The recipient smiled and placed the bouquet in a bin and collected it on the other side. Then, did they wave? Blow kisses? What could the giver see?
The recipient proceeded to the gate, bouquet in hand.
There, it was dropped or tossed away.
Again, I looked around, this time for callousness.
Photo by Ron Thompson at Barcelona Airport, August 2013
See how it began here. The next instalment is here