Any splash of color in his dreary workplace would have done the trick. A coat so red was sure to catch his eye. It was like that scene in Schindler’s List, truly the stuff of epic romance.

The first time she came in, he didn't dare raise his hopes. Women of her ilk were but fluttering butterflies in such a landscape, ceasing but a moment before taking flight to greener pastures. Who could blame them? Everyone finds themselves in such places from time to time, and afterwards most make a conscious effort to never return.

She was different. She had every reason to move on, beauty, age, but did not. He could read the depth of her without sharing a word. This is exactly what he could not bring himself to attempt. Who was to talk to such a beauty? Besides, they were trained not to interrupt any possible clientele.

Eventually he steeled his nerves and took the jump. “N-nice morning isn't it?” She turned slowly and faced him. A silent moment hung between them and he allowed his heart to swell. Her head cocked slightly as if she were about to speak.

Instead, a low guttural cry emerged as tears began to overflow and her nose began to run like a faucet. She turned and fled, her red coattails flapping in retreat.

‘What did I expect?!’ he thought to himself bitterly, ‘I’m the guy who buried her grandmother!”