Three Hundred White Flowers

In the morning Rita sent the photo of the cake to all the family. "Everybody loves the name on it," she wrote. "Nina's brother says it is the best cake in the city." Sam wanted to explain everything again, but the next message was already there: "The flowers, Sam!" He called a flower shop near his office. "I need white flowers for a wedding," he said. "How many?" the man asked. Sam did not know how many people were coming, how many tables there were or how big the garden was. "Three hundred," he said, because it was a good round number. "And the address?" Sam gave the only address he really knew: his own. At seven in the evening a big white car stopped at his door. Two men carried box after box into his small flat. Now Sam had one bed, one table and three hundred white flowers. Then his phone rang. Rita asked: "Sam, are the flowers already in the garden?"

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