Between Petals and Memories

as arranging. It was him again, the man with the flowers. She didn't know his na

storms. He wasn't like most of her customers who chatted about their gardens or dinner parti

ina said, trying not

replied, wit

asked, though she al

cking to the flowers be

curiosity more with each passing day. The way he looked at the flowers, as if they held memories for him, or maybe even secrets. His sorrow was obvious, like

he had no business being intrigued by him. After all, he was just another customer, one of many who passed throu

r tone light, though she couldn't help but w

oice was soft but tinged with somethi

Her mind raced. "For someone special, then?" she asked, her

adness, maybe, or a kind of melancholy that seemed to have settled deep inside him. His gaze softened for a moment, and K

" he said, his voice

hy someone who appeared so distant seemed so full of unspoken sorrow. But his expression warned her not to push further.

s. She was used to the casual exchanges with customers' smiles, and polite goodbyes-but this felt different. There was something more in th

ost neutral comment she could muster, though the word

cash, his fingers brushing hers once more as he took his change. His smile f

eyes followed him through the shop window as he crossed the street and made his way up the hill toward the cemetery. It wasn't the first time she'd s

ning someone. And those lilies, chosen with such care, we

and what had happened to bring him here, day after day, buying the same flowers with a quiet, unspoken grief. She thought of the sorrow t

her heart. Tomorrow, she would find a way to learn more about the ma