They called my flight but I made no move to board: the mystery wasn’t solved.
Callously abandoned? Why drop the bouquet there? Dump it in a trash bin, there’d be no questions then. Besides, it had landed with some force – witness the two detached petals splayed like corpses on the cold-slab floor. The physical evidence connoted passion, not indifference. Was there a phone call, a letter opened, a penny finally dropping from some comment made in passing?
The flowers were pink, not red. It could still be a case of careless haste.
My stakeout continued, though time was running out.
Photo by Ron Thompson at Barcelona Airport, August 2013
See how it began here. See the conclusion here.