inappropriate self-aggrandizing analogies

The other day I walked into the Apple store with my expired student ID to purchase a new computer.
"This one's expired, but I'm starting grad school in the fall," I explained, trying not to bite my lip and expose the stretched truth.
"Yeah? Where you going? Here in boston?"
"No, California. San Francisco. Creative writing master's." My heart started pounding around looking for some wood to knock on. I hadn't heard back yet from most schools, and my primal superstition floundered around for a buoy.
"Nice, man, nice. San Fran is sweet. I'm jealous, dude."
We talked about music and creativity and the world, and I eventually left with my new computer under my arm.

Today I packed up the computer and left starbucks, heading home to change for work. In the lobby of my building I hesitated, weighing laziness and apathy before checking the mailbox. There was a large envelope addressed to me from California College of Arts in San Francisco.
My heart thumped in my throat, and my knees threatened to give out as I opened the envelope in the elevator.
Dear Mr. Blumer,
It is my pleasure...
The rest faded in an adrenaline haze as I stumbled into my apartment, reminded of Saint Elizabeth.
Where are you going? What's in your apron?
Just roses...
Let me see.
She's caught. Her husband will be furious when he sees the loaves of bread stuffed in her apron for the poor. She sighs and drops her apron, bracing for the worst. Her husband stares agape, quizzical and at a loss for words.
Dozens of roses cascade to the floor at his feet. He stoops and lifts one, burying his nose in its delicate folds. He meets her gaze with a glint in his eye and a smile to match.

Okay, so it's a totally inappropriate analogy, but the relief she must have felt probably pales in comparison to mine. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and stressors suddenly seem weak and trivial. So thank you, CCA, thank you for lifting my spirits and whiting my lie.