'She gave me roses,' said the brown-haired boy.
'And then she smiled and walked away.'

'That's good,' said the dishevelled little owl.

'But why would she do that?' asked the brown-haired boy.
'Why would she walk away like that?
'Maybe there's something wrong with her.'

(Pause.)

'Do you like the roses?' asked the dishevelled little owl.

'Oh, they're perfect,' said the brown-haired boy.
'But...'

'What?' asked the dishevelled little owl.

'Why me?' asked the brown-haired boy.
'What does she want?' 

(Pause.)

'She wants you to be happy,' said the dishevelled little owl.
'But she doesn't know me!' said the brown-haired boy.
'She doesn't know my name,' he said,
'or who I am.
'She doesn't know anything about me!'

'Doesn't matter,' said the dishevelled little owl.