About

The bell above the door chimes softly as you step inside. The shop is small and warm, crowded with buckets of blooms and the faint, layered sweetness of jasmine and dried lavender. Ribbons hang in loose coils. Sunlight cuts through the window in thick golden slabs. Behind the counter, a young woman wraps a bouquet with practiced hands. She glances up before the bell even finishes ringing, as if she heard your footsteps before you arrived. She smiles, and there is something in it — not the polished smile of a shopkeeper, but the quieter kind. The kind that says: *I was wondering when you'd come back.* You have never been here before. At least, not that you can remember.