Sitting in my mother’s SUV with the headlights off in the farthest flung corner of the parking lot was Michael Wilks. To the right of the vehicle, were several petals of an orchid, strewn across the pavement leading towards the grassy field beyond the pavement, where somewhere in the darkness, lay the rest of Michael’s corsage.

Lindsay was somewhere else, where exactly, he wasn’t sure. But I was. I saw her with Daniel Clarkson slow dancing to some acoustic version of a pop hit I couldn’t identify. And now, like the good friends we are, Nicole and I strode out into the lot to comfort him. Unfortunately, Michael’s dates left him often. To Nicole and I, this was just another spring formal.

Just like his corsage, he was a fragile flower cast aside. But Nicole and I were more than happy to pick up the petals.