I'll take this one."
" Ah. This one."
"Yes, thank you."
" Is twenty cent, sir."
"Yeah, keep the change"
" Thank you mister."
,
"You too, beautiful lady."
Justin stood in the quiet flower shop, holding a bouquet of honeybells—Eve's favorite.
She had always loved these flowers. Always. The soft yellow bells seemed to carry a secret meaning with each petal, and she would talk about them like they told stories of strength and beauty. He never really cared, or at least pretended not to. But deep down, he always listened.
He remembered how her eyes used to sparkle when she talked about flowers.
"If I grow up someday," she once said, "I want to be a flower."
Justin squinted up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun. "A flower?"
She nodded softly, humming. "Yes. A flower, brother."
Then she broke into a playful run before stopping abruptly. "I want to be strong and beautiful. Bold enough to face harsh wind and scary rain."
