Neural Fusion
"Hells bells!" I thought to
myself. "It's Valentine's Day!"
And though it is very commercial, you
can't ignore it. Not if you're married to an Italian. Not if you
don't want to wake up dead on the 15th. So, just in time,
I went to the florists and bought seven red roses. I was lucky, there
were no other customers, plenty of roses left.
(Seven. That's right isn't it? I mean.
Twelve seems such an unromantic number. 12 inches to the foot. And
twenty-four! That is even more unromantic. Twenty four hours in a day
– boring. But seven is a magic lucky number.)
As I handed the florist the money I
thought: "It seems only yesterday that I was doing this very
same thing, and yet it was a year ago."
And when my wife came in that night she
was very pleased to see the vase with the seven roses in the center
of the table.
"They're lovely! But why?"
It struck me then that it was March
the 14th, not February the 14th. My March and
February neurons had fused, temporarily I hope.
"Because you deserve it," I
replied.
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