Captain Brand rose from the bench and adjusted his uniform. There were people coming and going at Grand Central Station, his eyes searching the crowd. He’s looking for a girl, a girl he’s never met but has a heart for, a girl with roses.
His attention to her began thirteen months ago at a library in Florida, when Brand pulled a book off the shelf, and he was soon hooked. What attracted him, however, was not the words in the book, but the pencil words in the margins of the pages. Through graceful handwriting, Brand felt an emotional heart and a wise mind.
On the title page of the book Brand discovered the book’s previous owner, Miss Hollys Maynell. After much trouble, Brand finally got the address of Miss Maynell, who lives in New York City.
He wrote her a letter introducing himself and wished to correspond with her. However, the day after receiving her letter, Brand hurriedly sailed to Europe to participate in World War II. In the following year and one month, the two became acquainted through letters, and each letter was like a seed sown in each other’s hearts.
This is where love sprouts. Brand had asked the girl for a photo, but she refused. The girl said that if he really loved her, it didn’t matter how he looked.
Brand finally waited until the day he returned from Europe. He and the girl agreed on a time and place to meet for the first time – 7 o’clock in the evening at New York’s Grand Central Station.
”You’ll recognize me,” the girl said in the letter, “I’ll pin a red rose on the front lapel of my jacket.”
At this moment, exactly 7 o’clock, Brand was standing at Grand Central Station, searching for the man who had never met but was deeply Loved girl. Let Captain Brand tell the following story:
At this moment, a young girl, tall and slender, came towards me. Blonde curly hair neatly combed behind her pretty ears; blue eyes as beautiful as flowers; soft lips and chin revealing a hint of fortitude; a pale green dress makes people feel that spring has arrived.
I involuntarily went up to meet her, completely unaware that she was not wearing roses. Seeing me walk over, a defiant smile appeared on the corner of her mouth.
”Come with me, soldier?” the girl whispered.
Almost subconsciously, I took another step towards her, and that’s when I saw Hollys Maynell. She was standing just behind the girl, looking over forty, grey hair looming under the old hat. She looked a little bloated, with a pair of low-heeled shoes on her chubby feet.
The woman in green hurried over.
My body seemed to be split in two, I really wanted to catch up with that girl, and at the same time there was a deep longing to see the woman who accompanied me and inspired me with her heart.
Now, she was standing in front of me, her grey eyes gleaming with kindness and softness. I no longer hesitated, clutching the shabby little book with the blue cover tightly in my hand.
This may not be love, but a precious thing, perhaps more precious than love, probably friendship, a feeling that I once and will never forget. Despite the undeniable disappointment and bitterness in my voice, I puffed out my chest, saluted the lady, and handed the book in my hand.
”Hello, I’m Captain John Brand, you must be Miss Menell; I’m glad you came to see me, can I invite you to dinner?” The
woman smiled broadly. “I don’t know what’s going on, boy,” she replied, “the girl in green who just passed by begged me to pin this rose to my coat, and told me that if you invite me to dinner, tell me You, she’ll be waiting for you at the restaurant across the street. She said it was a little quiz.”
