ONE-SHOT COLLECTIONS

Flowers

“Have a nice day,” Karen smiles at the lovely woman and her son who purchased a bouquet of tulips and roses, a present for his grandmother. “Those are her favorites, we always get it for her when we visit,” so Karen made sure to wrap it extra special.

She hums a soft tune as she works her way around the flower shop, knowing where to step even if she closes her eyes as she slides from one spot to another, she wasn’t afraid if she’d trip and fall, she knew the place well.

Karen Wright grew up in an orphanage, the guardians there cared for her since she’s an infant, they informed her of her ill-fated parents who died, one through an accident, the other by a rare illness.

They raised her well and nicely, yet, after turning 17, she wanted to see the outside world, to experience life outside of school and the orphanage. She was a curious female, hungry to see what’s out there yet she didn’t want to go far.

I’m not that brave… she had once thought before she told her guardians of her wish.

As a little girl, she grew up liking flowers, the orphanage she was raised in had a mini greenhouse, filled with fresh vegetables, colorful exotic flowers, and an outdoor variation flowerbeds. She’d always find time to water the plants, not minding if it’s her turn or not and finish the rest of her afternoon with the flowers.

Whether it’d be pulling out the weeds, or mulching the flowerbeds, or simply just fertilizing them. Other kids or their guardians always finds her there, and she didn’t care, no matter how much they complain she shouldn’t.

Of course, at 17 they could not let her go because she's not of legal age to be independent, but they gave her permission to venture the city and explore, with the condition to come back before curfew.

It was then when she found this old yet comfy flower shop, called Blooming Flowers.

***

“My, my, someone’s cheerful today,” a soft amused voice greets her ears, making her turn around in delight, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Mrs. Peters, I thought you won’t come in today!” she greets the older woman with a wide smile, sliver gray hair with a few black lining her head, tall yet a bit slouched, the woman with soft green eyes smiles at her warmly in return.

“I know, but I just remembered I left my favorite scarf, so...” she chuckles as they walk further into the flower shop.

“Well, you are always welcome since this is your shop,” Karen starts to make tea.

“Oh yes, but sometimes I feel like this is your shop dear, you take such good care of it, much better than I ever did,” Staci Peters accepts the drink and sips quietly.

“Oh, that’s not true, I found this beautiful from the start, how could you say that?” she pouts and the older laughs.

“I admit I did take care of this place well back then, and as I age, my work got sloppy, since you worked here, this place has never felt so alive, and the flowers have never been more… enchanting,”

“Oh hush, I learned from the best didn’t I?” Karen bashfully squeezes the older woman’s arm, smiling brightly.

“Well, I second that,” they both chuckle and fell back into a comfortable silence, she looks around the shop, the variety of flowers increased since Karen worked here. She has to say, she’s never seen anyone with such bright green thumbs.

“So, where are you going today? Any new adventures, is that why you need the scarf?”

“Oh! Don’t mention it, they want to take me to an amusement park! Can you imagine, little old me?!” her face mortified by the image and Karen couldn't help but laugh at her.

“Honestly Mrs. Peters, I can,” her words caused them to laugh, feeling light with jokes.

The two talked over tea, then she left, saying “My grandkids are asking me home, oh please… save me,”

Laughing lightly she attends to the flowers, making the reserved bouquets and pots, till a familiar voice greets her over the soft tune she played.

***

“You’re dancing today, I thought you’d be hopping around again,” his voice held amusement with a deep chuckle and she didn’t turn to see his face.

The man had been visiting for the past 9 months, buying a simple bouquet of violet and blue hydrangeas, then leave without a word. Yet in the second month, he started asking her questions, to have coffee with him. 

At first, she declined politely not wanting to upset her regular customer. Plus she wasn’t used to being alone with a man, she didn’t want to put him in an awkward position.

His regular appearances and questions got discovered by her boss, Mrs. Peters. Who then began joking and teasing her, telling her the young lad was into her and wanted to date her, but she declined it politely as well.

After persistently asking her each day for three weeks straight. She grew tired, annoyed and slightly intrigued, and then, drawn with curiosity, she said yes to coffee.

They soon kick-start their odd friendship. At first, it was awkward, he’d come to take her out after she closes the shop. Daily. Then it became less awkward as time pass. 

She never knew where he lived or where he’s from, only knew of his name, physical frame, and face. Somehow, that didn’t bother any of them. Or her, personally.

“Philip, you’re here,” she blushes bright red at his comment, noting the fact his grey eyes roaming around then focuses on her, his lips twitch at her embarrassed state.

Philip Williams, tall, tan and muscular, with shoulder-length black hair, and a mysterious yet gentle aura. He'd become a friend she’s accustom to seeing at least once every day, whether she wants to or not.

“Yes, I have been for a few minutes, yet you seemed… distracted,” he chuckles once more, teasing and she pouts, the embarrassment fading, she's used to it.

“Can you blame me? These ponies are so beautiful and colorful!” she gushes, pulling him towards the newly arrived ponies, telling him about the possibilities and reactions from the regular customers.

He watch the woman talk about flowers actively and excitedly like other woman talks about designer handbags, clothes, and shoes. It amazed him every time he observed her gush about rare, wild or simple flowers, she looked carefree and happy, always.

“I’m glad you’re happy Kar,” he said as if being melancholic suddenly, his face unreadable as a look of hurt, longing, sadness and regret flash through his eyes and her head tilt in confusion, his words caught her by surprise.

“Of course I’m happy, why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason, now wrap it up, we’re going for a movie,” he exhales as he grins, the hurt and sadness long gone, replace with pure utter happiness.

***

“That was a great movie, now I know why Dory was weird yet special,” Karen chuckles as they walk to the flower shop. Absentmindedly, she starts skipping as she hums a soft tune, the same one since she was a child.

“Yeah, but not as special as you,” Philip whispers as he watch the woman walk under the moonlight, pure, sweet, near yet far from him, sighing, the foreboding emotions creep into his system again.

“Did you say something?” she turns to face him over her shoulders, munching on the string jelly he bought for her. The sight made him smile, the feeling vanishing slowly and he walks, falling in step with her.

“Nothing, it must be the wind,” he shrugs and she nods, not giving it much thoughts.

After a few walks around the block, they stopped in front of Blooming Flowers, instead of the main entrance, they took the small flight of stairs next to it and stops in front of another door where Karen fumbles with the keys. 

“Ah, here it is,” she smiles as she turns the knob and enters her apartment room.

“Good night Karen,” he offers a soft smile and she grins back.

“Good night Philip, see you tomorrow,” she waves, closing the door, missing the longing look on his face.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispers more to himself as he stares at the door. Sighing sadly.

***

“Are you making that for him?” the sudden voice made her jump in surprise, a hand over her beating heart and the older female laughs at her expression, wide-eyed and opened jaw.

“Mrs. Peters, don’t scare me, look at what happened! You know I hate it when people creep on me,” she pouts as the small flowers in her hands now destroyed.

In front of them, a half-made bouquet of violet and blue hydrangeas were neatly gathered. Karen wanted to add few long leaves and small pink flowers today as he requested to have the parcel more… lively and colorful.

“Ops… Sorry dear,” she bashfully replies and laughs at Karen’s blanked expression. “I’ll help you, these are for him, right?”

“Yes, he’ll come by quickly this afternoon to pick them up,”

“No plans today?” Mrs. Peters’ eyebrow raised in question, honestly curious as she knows he loves to take her out as she seldom does.

“No, he said he’s busy today, maybe tomorrow?” she shrugs her shoulder like she didn’t care, when in fact, she does, she's confused, curious and intrigued.

Many questions popped the moment she received his text, telling her their plan today was canceled, he had to rain-check because their plan overlapped his appointments. 

“Well, I’m sure he’ll make it up to you soon,” the older winks as she finished making the bow with a navy ribbon, handing it over to Karen.

“There’s nothing to make-up, I understand he can’t always take me out,” she avoids the older’s eyes, acting as if to check the ribbon.

“I’m sure you do dear,” the woman pats her with meaning and left her alone when the bell chimes, indicating a customer.

***

“I love the bouquet you made last Friday, they were very beautiful,” Philip comments as they ate ice creams in silence, sitting opposite of each other.

He picked her up as she closed the shop, taking her out for dinner then a drive around the city, when she spotted the ice cream parlor, he knew she wanted to eat it right away.

He bought her a two-scoop ice cream of salted caramel and vanilla with peanuts, while he got a cone of raspberry ripple for himself. Then they began walking at the nearby park, which was how they end up at the picnic table.

“Why do you always and only buy hydrangeas?” Karen asked him the question she’s been meaning to ask, it's been nagging on the back of her head. They had been eating the ice cream in silence, yet when he mentions it, she decides to pop the question.

“Because those are the only flowers I know,” he answers truthfully, a flash of regret went through his eyes yet Karen wasn’t certain if she saw correctly, as their surroundings were dim and it was too fast for her own eyes.

“Eh? But I tell you about flowers all the time, how can it be the only flower you know?” she pokes his cheek with the back of her spoon, giggling at his unamused face.

“Well, yes, but those are also the flowers I like personally,”

“Wait! Really? For real?! Me too!!” she looks at him wide-eyed and he chuckles at her expression. Possibly because this would be the first he opened up to her about his interest.

“Yes, I used to have a close friend who loves hydrangeas more than others, took a liking to it too,”

“Ah…” Karen didn’t know how to respond to the statement, unsure as well because he seemed, sad as he mentions it.

Their conversations soon drift off to other topics, and he took her back home, wishing her good night and promised to see her tomorrow. Like a routine, he’d stand in front of the door before leaving, sadness filling him.

***

“Have you ever asked him?” Mrs. Peters suddenly spoke when she's done arranging the new tulips, making her stop midway from going to the teapot.

“Asked him what?”

“If he liked you? I know you like him,” the woman shortens the distance as she puts a hand on hers, pulling her to sit down.

“I… I don’t… I… I never…” yet her cheeks gave away as they blush bright red at the warm thoughts of him, of his kind and gentle gestures. His teasing words and knowledgeable facts which he shared with her.

“Really dear? Then why are you blushing?” the older woman pinches her cheeks and Karen merely lets out a forced laugh.

“Oh just leave me alone,” Karen pouts and she laughs, dismissing the younger as she goes back to arranging the rare black and purple roses. When Karen was sure she won’t bother her, she continues to arrange the rest of the flowers.

As she hums and gathers the carnations according to as requested, the front door opens and chimes, making Karen raise her head, to greet, yet stops when she sees Philip with a bright smile.

Surprise, she goes back to arranging the carnations, ignoring him. Her cheeks heated.

“You can take this to the counter,” she tells the young man politely who’s been waiting patiently, and acts busy when Philip choose to come closer.

“Are you busy?”

“Uh, no, just a few orders for deliveries, what are doing here?” she asks back, honestly confused as it was only 3 pm, he always comes by at 5 pm or later.

“Finished work early today, thought I’d see you and maybe we can have dinner? I bought over some groceries?” he didn’t know why his sentences sounded like a question instead of a statement.

“Uh, sure, you go and wait, I need to get these done first,” still not turning around to face him, she gestures towards her resting area where she and Mrs. Peters always have tea.

Philip smiles at her back, unsure why she's acting this way but alas he left her and goes to said place. Karen was embarrassed to face him as she could feel her cheeks burning, her conversation with Mrs. Peters comes into mind the moment their eyes met, and she could not find the courage to face him.

“My dear Philip, you are early today? Do you have any plans with her?” Mrs. Peters greets him as she pours them a cup of tea each, and he accepts it without protest.

“No, no particular plans, I just thought I’d dropped by and maybe have dinner with her upstairs,”

“Oh, are you going to cook for her son?” she asks excitedly and he politely nods, indirectly telling her, agreeing.

As they talked about various topics, time passed and Karen didn't once go to him, and he didn’t mind, he liked watching her work even from a distance. It was enchanting and beautiful, especially since she’s surrounded by flowers, it made her seem more lovely.

“Well, deary, don’t keep him waiting for too long, close up and have a lovely dinner with him,” the older woman waves, leaving her with him to close the shop.

“Need any help?” he asks as he watch Karen pulls some flowers inside, his sudden words surprised her, making her bump her head into his broad chest.

“Oh, no, not at all, I’m almost done, you take the groceries upstairs and wait for me,” she avoids his eyes and felt like she's acting weird, yet he ignores her words as he takes over her chore, much to her protest.

“Now we can go upstairs,”

***

“Dinner was delicious, thank you,” Karen smiles in gratitude as she starts to clean their table, Philip doing the same.

“No, no, let me, you’ve already cooked,” she tries to stop him when he began to soap the dirty dishes.

“Let me, you’ve already had a long day, I don’t mind,”

“But this is my room, and you’re my guest, I can’t make my guest do everything,”

“You’re not,” he said then continue to wash all of their dirty plates, and since Karen couldn't stand idling around, she waited for those washed plates and began to wipe it dry with the kitchen towel.

When they finished, both retreat to her small couch and sat, suddenly the room felt too quiet and Karen didn't know what to say to him.

“Is something bothering you Kar?” he asks her, he noticed she’s been staring off into space since he got here and barely looks at him as she always would.

“No… why would anything be wrong?” she bites her bottom lip, not meeting his eyes again, during the period of him cooking and dinner, Karen had acted normally, yet now she’s behaving weirdly.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because you won’t look at me as you talk?” he tilts her chin to him and immediately, her cheeks warm, from his finger to the intensity of his eyes. 

“It’s nothing really,” she pulls his hand away slowly, and just as she's about to let go, he tightens them together.

“I don’t think so, is there something you want to talk about?” he tugs her and she involuntarily slides closer to him.

"No, not really,” her eyes not meeting his and he grew impatient with her dodging.

“Tell me, now,”

“No, there's nothing to tell,” she frowns as she tries to tug her hand away from his.

“Tell me,” he won’t let her hand go as the more she tugs and denies, the more the hold tightens.

“Tell me, Karen,”

“There’s nothing to tell Philip,”

“You’re lying, now tell me,” he pressed his fingers deeper to her skin and his hold on her hand got harder.

“Philip you’re hurting me,”

“Don’t change the subject,”

“I’m not,”

“Then tell me!” he yells, taking Karen by surprise, as she blurts out the words which had been hanging around her all day.

“Do you like me?”

There was a pregnant pause between them, his hand had loosened as his face paled and she pulls it back, trying to soothe the pain of his strong grip. He didn’t say anything for a while and Karen grew nervous, she regrets blurting it out.

“It’s nothing… I… forget it,” she sighs, getting up to leave but he pulls her back down, the sight of her broken face snapped Philip back to her and he knew he had to stop her.

“I love you,” he whispers her softly, making Karen stare at him in amazement, but before she could dwell on it he adds, “Yet we can’t be with each other,”

“What… why…?” why would he say such words without giving it a try? 

“I’m sorry,” this time, he knifed out of the couch and make his way to the door, but his step stops midway when Karen yells, “I love you too,”

The two of them stay frozen, one standing in the middle of the room, lost and broken, while the other one sitting down, hoping for the male to turn and look at her.

“Karen we can’t,” he finally said after their pause, not turning around to face her, and she could feel her tears coming.

“Why?”

“You won’t understand,” his voice sounded broken as he spoke the words out, a bit horse as his shoulders slumped and she observes how it seemed like he had trouble breathing.

“Try me, please, why not Philip?” she too sounded broken and he shut his eyes, trying hard to not let this get to him.

“If I told you, then you’ll be gone,”

“What?” she slowly makes way to him, the tears had fallen and she felt like her heart was being ripped apart by his words.

“You’ll leave, once I tell you why, you’ll leave me,” he finally face her once she stood in front of him, giving her a clear look of his condition. He too had been crying, the more he tries to shut it out, the more they came. The foreboding feeling he’d been feeling since he saw her again, was eating him up.

“Why? What do you mean?” she tries to hold his hand yet he steps back, hurting her with his action.

“You’re not real,” he said simply and she looks at him confusedly.

“What?”

“You’re a ghost… and… I’m… not,”

***

Philip had just landed from his eight-hour flight, feeling all of his muscles ache and he wishes for nothing but the comfort of a fluffy bed.

“Mr. Williams, how was your flight?” the middle-aged man greets him politely as he takes his luggage and places them in the bonnet.

“It was fine, how’s mother and father?” he decided he should make some small talk, just so he won’t fall asleep in the car.

“They are fine, very pleased with your return and they can’t wait to see you,” Philip then got the man into another conversation as they drive through town, his eyes caught the sight of the small town he grew up in, the change in the building and such.

Yet when they passed through to the lots of shops, a particular, old and abandoned shop caught his attention, Blooming Flowers, he read, then it was out of his sight when the driver continues on their journey home. 

As days passed, Philip did not remember the shop at all, yet one day, when his mom came to visit him at the office, he remembered it.

“Where did you get these flowers mother?” he asks as he watches his old yet beautiful mother arrange the said flowers in a vase, setting them on his coffee table.

“At a florist a few blocks away, why?” not paying much attention to her son, she admired her work from afar.

“What’s the name of the florist?”

“Um, Sunny Day, why?” now she faces him and he casually shrugs, “Just curious,” he says, not wanting to make her think otherwise and she didn’t.

“Well then, now you’re back here, this place looks more alive than before, don’t you think?” she beams and he smiles in return, agreeing with her.

***

“Blooming Flowers?” he says as he parks the car in front of the lot, the shops there were mostly closed down, there was no one there and even though the shop seems closed, it was obvious it used to be a flower shop.

The male tried his luck and slowly push the door of the shop open, surprised as it wasn’t locked as the bell chimed weirdly and enters the dusty, abandoned and slightly creepy shop.

On the ground, there were many dried flowers and leaves, making him frown as he makes way inside, exploring the creepy place.

He didn’t understand what or why he was doing this, yet he also could not stop himself from doing it as he ventured deeper into the old flower shop.

***

Life is useless if you live without being happy, yet why can’t I be? A petal fell on the floor as a figure make her way upstairs, not minding about the mess she’s about to make.

“Is this… a hydrangea petal?” he picks up the fallen petal, the one which still looked like it had just been plucked out. Then he looks forward, and sees a trail of it, leading up to a flight of stairs.

Once the violet ones finish, she began plucking out the blue ones, her other favorite, as she makes way to her room.

Slowly, Philip makes his way as he follows after the trail of violet and blue hydrangeas, not caring about anything else as he enters the small apartment like room.

Once inside, she began plucking another violet hydrangea, making a pool of petals on the couch.

He stares at the pool of petals, touching them softly as he recalls the person who loves this flower most, “Why do you like a flower that represents death?” he asked once and she brightly replies, “I don’t like what it represents, I love it because it’s beautiful,”

After filling the couch with petals, she enters her bedroom, emptying the rest of the petals by her bed then she lies down, holding the empty stems tightly by her chest as she drew her last breath.

Philip push opens the door to the bedroom, yet what greets him was nothing but an empty bed, a few dried stems of hydrangeas and a cold atmosphere.

***

“What did you say?” Karen asks, confused as her tears dried up and they were still frozen in spot.

“You’re dead, but you’re here, Karen… you’ve been dead for 2 years, yet you’re here,” a sob escapes Philip as he watches her in front of him observes her surroundings. Slowly, all of her furniture, her things, the flowers which surround her corners dissolve like an illusion, the room they stood in was empty, abandoned and dusty.

“If I’m… I’m dead, then how could you see me?”

“You’re my illusion,” as he said this, the woman disappears and he broke down, crying as he clutches his aching heart. He had been too late back then, and he had been late even now. Maybe he was going crazy as the doctors said.

“I thought I’d find you here,” a soft woman’s voice could be heard yet he paid no heed.

“Philip, son, you have to let her go, letting her go will make both of you at peace,” Mrs. Peters pats his shoulders softly, feeling sorry for the man.

***

9 months ago, she got a call saying someone broke into her old flower shop, and when she got there, a handsome young man was looking around Karen’s old room, but he didn’t look lost, no, he looked intrigued.

“What are you doing here young man? Why are you trespassing my shop?” she approaches him and he turns around in surprise by her appearance.

“Uh, I’m sorry for trespassing, but, did someone stay here?” he gestures towards the cold empty bedroom and he caught the look of sadness flash through the woman’s eyes.

“Yes, someone did,”

“Who, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“My worker, she was like a daughter to me, the daughter I never had,”

“What was her name…?” he didn’t understand why he kept asking, but something in his gut told him to.

“Karen Wright,” the moment the name left her lips, he felt the blood leaving his face, and he couldn’t believe it.

“Did you say Karen Wright?” he asks again, to make sure, it couldn’t be the same Kar right?

“Yes, that’s her name, why? Do you know her?”

“What happened to her?”

“Tell me what you know, then I’ll tell you,” the woman began to suspect the young lad, he showed out of nowhere, she couldn’t just tell him.

“I used to know her back at the orphanage, I’m one of the older kids who look out for her, at least, till someone adopted me,” he admits, he had just come back a week ago, planting the intention going to the orphanage, and maybe asking them about her, yet he came here first, now he knew why.

“Are you… Will?” the woman asked him, taking a step closer as she studies his face, “You are,” she gasped as she sees the matching scar on his cheek, which Karen also had.

The scar from playing volleyball, Karen and the older boy Will got while playing with other kids from their orphanage. One of the kids served the ball too hard, almost knocking her out, but he managed to take her in his arms, yet he could not save their landing.

Their cheeks resulted in matching scars as it got scratched by the rough ground, his on the right while hers on the left.

Karen had told Mrs. Peters about it, about the nice older boy who always keep an eye out for her, yet has little words to say, Karen also expressed how sad she felt when Will left.

“Yes, but my adopted parents changed it to Philip because their last name is Williams, did she told you about me? Where is she?” he asked, wanting to know where she was, he misses her like crazy.

“Oh… she… died son,” the woman offered him an apologetic smile but Philip could not believe his ears, “What…? Why?” he whispers it out, the words that comes next just makes him dizzier.

“I’m sorry son, she died 2 years ago due to heart failure,”

“What, how?” he looks around, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing, then he felt someone grabbing him, “Come, let me tell you about her,”

***

Staci Peters showed him pictures and videos of Karen, the moments when the female was busy working around the shop, how she interacted with the customers, her grandkids, even told him about the monthly hospital visits she makes.

As he takes in one by one of her memory, he could not help but think, if I’d come back 2 years ago when mother and father requested, I could have seen her.

Then as time past, he began to insert himself in the memories, he’d imagined what it would be like to see her for the 1st time after their 7 years of separation, how he’d be friends with her again.

And sometimes, after getting the permission and keys from the older woman, he’d go to her small apartment room, trying to imagine what it’d be like to cook for her, to talk to her.

He’d picture the 20-year-old Karen, healthy, honey blonde hair with olive skin, dancing around and humming to the tune she knew, as she worked with flowers.

Sometimes, he thought he was crazy because he kept seeing her, hearing her, but in reality, those were only from the memories of her, given and shared to him by Mrs. Peters.

He never understood why she liked the blue and violet hydrangeas, but now it became his favorite because they remind him of her, and now she's gone.