He ended up falling asleep at his booth before the sun had even fully risen, resting his head on his arms and sleeping peacefully, flower still tucked behind his ear and hair slightly messier than usual from the breeze.
Dee,
I honestly don't know how to feel anymore, it's-strange, no one's ever really spoken to me the way you do, or well-written, I suppose... no one's ever said such beautiful things to me, no one's ever sent me flowers-and now all of the sudden I have someone who seems to care, in ways no one ever has.... it's new, and wonderful and terrifying...
I don't know how you feel. Honestly, how could I...and well what if I am misinterpreting? What if I make things out to be more than they are and this strange, beautiful, wonderful fragile thing just ends up being...well, ordinary...and I suppose I'm scared...because what if once you start falling, you never really stop...?
All my meaning in flowers,
Virgil.