Chapter Text
It was quiet in the shop, not that that was anything new. It was peaceful, though, and it gave me time to water the plants.
The soft trickle of water filled the air as I tilted the metal watering can over a tray of violets, their delicate petals catching the light filtering through the shop window. The scent of fresh earth and blossoms lingered, wrapping the space in something warm and familiar. It wasn’t much—just a small flower shop on the corner of an unassuming street—but it was mine.
I set the watering can down and wiped my hands on the apron tied around my waist. The arrangements for today’s orders sat neatly in the cooler, their colors and shapes carefully chosen. I had double-checked them, made sure each flower was exactly where it needed to be. Perfection mattered in this work, not just for the sake of beauty, but for the meaning woven into every stem.
A bouquet wasn’t just a bouquet.
People came in asking for flowers without realizing they were asking for more. Some needed apologies, some needed comfort, and some wanted to say things they didn’t have the words for. And I—without a word—arranged those messages in petals and leaves, handing them over like quiet confessions.
Outside, a breeze rustled the sign hanging above the door. The bell hadn’t chimed all morning, but I didn’t mind the stillness. It gave me time to think, to breathe.
To wonder what kind of stories would walk through that door today.