Jake knew he was brave. Everyone around him said so too.
All the brave had left him now. There she was, tall, blond and so beautiful that he felt like crying.
He clasped the flowers in his hands and walked up to her. He shoved the flowers at her, and said, “I love you! Be my girl?”
She looked at the flowers and laughed away the last shreds of brave in him.
“I don’t date younger men,” she said, shoving the flowers back at him.
He stammered, “You are also eight years old…”
She shrugged and walked away.
He ran away, sobbing.