A short story by Amanda Montell
There’s a secret reason why I love going on flower runs. The restaurant assigns someone, usually a runner or a busser, to run out to this market on 9th Street and 2nd Ave to pick up a dozen red roses with which to garnish the VIP tables at the beginning of each dinner shift. But I always volunteer to make the trip. It’s kind of a hassle of a job, and I sometimes wonder whether they speculate as to why I always so enthusiastically offer to go. But I doubt they could figure the real reason why. Well, I suppose there are actually two.