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From the New York Times and WBUR Boston, this is Modern Love.

Stories of Love, loss and redemption.

I'm your host, Megna Chakrabardi.

A retail job isn't really where you'd likely go to seek enlightenment.

Alicia Gorder thought her stint at a small flower shop would be lovely and easy.

But it didn't take long for her to realize that a flower shop is actually a conduit for deep emotions.

The good, the bad, and the indescribable.

Carrie Bache reads for us this week.

You may know her from roles in Netflix's Narcos and AMC's Halt & Catch Fire.

She reads Alicia Gorder's essay, One Bokeh of Fleeting Beauty, Please.

On my first day of work at the flower shop, I showed up in sandals.

The second day, realizing I needed something closed toad, I wore my nice oxfords.

The third day, having learned that less fancy would be best, I put on a pair of red high-top converse sneakers that I bought specifically for the job.

The clean white toes and soles of my chuck tailors perfectly reflected my newness at the flower shop.

How long it took me to put together bouquets, how I struggled to fold paper around loose stems in a way that was pretty or at least presentable.

It's like swaddling a baby, someone told me in an effort to be helpful, but I had never done that either.

My dream of working in a flower shop had its roots in my grandmother's garden, always in bloom, where I made bouquets with whatever I could get my hands on.

But that experience, in no way, prepared me for the number of buckets I would have to clean, or the way dirt would wedge itself permanently under my nails.

Mostly though, I wasn't prepared for the people.

From the man who handed out three flowers to three strangers every Tuesday, to the Thanksgiving guest who sent a bouquet to his hosts after walking off with one of their silver dinner knives in his pocket.

Their stories wove their way into mine and stuck with me long after I locked up for the night.

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