Flowers On A Rainy Day

"You must love flowers a lot, young man." The florist remarked while putting the flowers together into a beautiful bouquet. Whether it was a formality or just a joke, that lady insisted I pose for a picture with the flowers in hand. I smiled awkwardly into the camera. Taking a look at the flowers, the bouquet surely looked pretty. I had purposely excluded the red ones as it was supposed to be a birthday gift. But honestly, my heart was already going places over getting such an overwhelming gift for her. As I came out of the store, it started to drizzle. Before I could get on the bus the downpour turned heavy and I had to go back to the store. On seeing me again, the florist asked me if I'd like some coffee to which I agreed politely. She seemed like a good person, must be in her late forties. The store was right next to a bus stop. It was filled with exotic flowers of all colors. The shop was a tiny one, with a cozy interior dimly lit with old yellow bulbs. There probably were a few candles too. The air was filled with the mixed fragrances of a thousand flowers and hot coffee. I had always wanted to drop by every time I passed by it but I never needed to get flowers until now. "Here." The florist handed me a cup of coffee after a couple of minutes. "Thank you, ma'am. Sorry to have bothered you." I replied taking a sip from the cup. "Ah! It's nothing." She laughed loudly. "I don't get to meet people in my store much anyway, so it's a pleasure having you." I joined in with her laughter. "About the question, I asked before, you like flowers a lot, right?" Taking another sip from the warm cup, I looked outside the shop through the glass pane. Surprisingly, most people outside were not the least bothered about the pouring rain. The traffic was loud but the sound of water gushing down the drain aggressively subdued all the noises with ease. It was about to get dark, and the setting sun was sending its last crimson rays into the sky, which was piercing through the clouds here and there as the rain was starting to die out. A young boy was pacing his steps after I saw a girl around his age pass in front of the store. He was trying to call her but she couldn't hear him it seems. "I don't know, to be honest. As a kid, I was raised in a family of three children, two girls, and a boy. I was the youngest of the siblings and my sisters used to dress me up like a girl now and then and put ornaments made with flowers on me. Tiaras are made with flowers, bracelets, and whatnot. I probably thought of myself as a girl during my early childhood days until I started going to school." I heard myself saying."Now, if I wonder, I think I've liked flowers since then." I wasn't sure what was going on with me but I was replying to her willingly without my conscience. It felt like there were three people at the moment, the lady, my soul, and my shell of a body. While the lady kept asking questions, my soul answered and my body stood aside, listening. "That's a really interesting story. Now tell me about rain, do you like the rain?" "The rain has a varied influence on me. When it rains in summer, I'm reminded of the paper boat days. It takes me back to a memory of me drenching in the rain on my bicycle one summer morning. Life was probably easier back then as I loved the feeling of getting drenched in the rain. I almost felt like letting go of the handles and opening up my arms wide and simply feeling the rain on me at that moment. As a teenager, I once went on a crazy trek up a hill with two of my friends one summer. The weather was already getting bad before we reached the hill and on our way up the crest, it started to rain. It grew dark and loads of water were gushing downhill making the ground slippery. We had to go back in the rain for the next half an hour and even though it was mid of June, the rain was chilling our spines and freezing our bones. I guess I like the summer rain." "And when it rains in winter?" My soul paused for a while before replying, "Winter rain reminds me of her." "Tell me about her." You come across a million people throughout your life but there'll always be a few people amongst the lot who make you feel things you've never felt before, people who leave a lasting impression on you irrespective of the amount of time you shared with them. She was a stranger who came to our hometown one day and while she was there, while I was there by her, she felt nothing but precious to me. You seem to think the person you like is different from everyone else, I felt that too. She was indeed different from everyone else, my precious. "It's fine if you don't feel like sharing, young man." "No, it's fine. I'm more than willing to tell you about her. But I think I'll probably need another cup of coffee for that." "Ha ha, of course. Hold on a bit." It has been a while since I last thought of her. Memories were flashing back and that familiar overwhelming fuzzy feeling was slowly embracing my heart. This bittersweet feeling, this old warm feeling of being in love for the first time is something you can never forget. "Here, so, tell me about her." The lady brought another cup of coffee and went to the door to turn the sign to closed. With a faint smile on her face, she sat next to me with her curious pair of eyes. I took a deep sigh and started.