Chapter 1~
"Alle!!!!"
I heard my grandma call me from downstairs to which I replied
"On my way mumma"
Yes I call my 'grandmother" mumma. Why you may ask?well because she's the closest thing I ever had to a parent.
I put the fresh hellebore wrapped in newspaper in the metal basket et before looking at the mirror one last time and fixing a front piece of my hair.
"There she is!" Mumma says as she watches me come down from the wooden stairs and put the basket of hellebore next to others.
"Mumma! It's Sunday! Or else I
would
in fact wake up early"
"Yeah a total of five minutes early that you do everyday"
She laughs as she calmly cuts off the stems of the white roses with the pair of silver scissors she's been using for years if not decades.
At this point, that scissors might be older than me. She just wouldn't let those go even if i got her a new one. Even if it's yellow(her favourite colour).
When I asked her once she said "New scissors cut flowers but old ones remember the bouquets they have ever made". Now do I know what she meant?
No.
So i just assume she believed they were lucky.
Maybe. Maybe not
I smile softly before standing up and walking to her .
"Mumma..you still have to take your medicine.. remember?" I say as softly as i can.
"You know I dont like those. They make me so sleepy"
I chuckled. "Now you're being the kid"
She smiled at me before actually taking the medicines.
I was cleaning the counter top when i hear the bell chime make a soft sound indicating someone has entered. Infact that someone was
him.
A tall man with dark hair. Green eyes. His long black coat
reaching about his knees. Despite being so breath takenly bautiful, he always looks so..empty? As if he was living in one grief for several years.
"Good morning sir..looking for beautiful flowers?"
He nodded slightly.
I gestured toward the buckets around the shop.
“We have fresh roses today, and these tulips just came in this morning. Oh—and the daisies are really pretty too. They’re my favorite.”
"No thanks. I want.."
Oh I knew exactly what he was about to say
"White lilies" he says without a single ounce of emotion to his face.
I blinked for a moment before nodding gently.
"How many would you like sir?"
Obviously six.
"Six."
By the time he said it I had already put the six white lilies wrapped in newspaper.
"That'll be-"
"Keep the change"
He left as I looked at the crisp 100 dollar bill.
I keep the money in the drawer as i watch him cross the road. I was so curious about this perticular individual. Why does he get only white lilies? On every sunday? Who are they for? Why only six?
For now, I knew nothing. But I knew, this man would change something in my life.
