EpisodeThree
1230 Words
One Flower, One Look
The mirror reflected the truth. Lena had run a brush through her hair not once, but twice.
This was uncharacteristic for her.
She leaned in to check under her eyes and dabbed on a bit of concealer—no big deal, just part of her routine. After adjusting her sweater, she chided herself; it wasn’t a date, just another morning at work.
Yet, she opted for the navy cardigan—the one that hugged her form just right.
By the time she opened the flower shop, Martha Owens was already there. Of course, she was. Settled by the front window, she sipped peppermint tea, pretending to be engrossed in her own thoughts while keeping an eye on Lena.
“You’re late,” Martha remarked.
“I’m not,” Lena countered, switching the lights on.
“You’re glowing.”
“I’m sweating. It’s humid.”
Martha raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And what’s up with that extra bounce in your ponytail?”
Lena stayed silent, preoccupying herself at the register.
Martha had been Lena’s neighbor since her teenage years. Young widow, fierce-witted, and far too observant for her own good. Over the years, she had become the closest thing Lena had to family—the only one who respected her boundaries when she distanced herself.
“Want to chat about the tall stranger from yesterday?” Martha asked lightly.
“Nope.”
“Good. I’m not a fan of small talk.”
Lena snorted. “Small talk is basically your lifeblood.”
“He had an aura,” Martha said. “Like someone who knows his worth. What’s his story?”
“I don’t know. He just stepped in from the rain.”
“Did he leave a number?”
“No.”
“Do you wish he had?”
Lena hesitated, then met Martha’s gaze. “I don’t do that sort of thing.”
“Do what exactly?”
“Get involved.”
Martha didn’t pry any further. She simply nodded and took a sip of her tea.
Before noon arrived, the shop became bustling. A few familiar faces, a delivery mix-up, and a newcomer—a man Lena had never encountered before.
He was tall, dark-skinned, and undeniably handsome in that magazine-cover kind of way. With a radiant smile and self-assured gaze, he leaned over the counter as if they were old pals.
“Do you always look this good when selling flowers?” he asked.
Lena blinked. “Pardon?”
He chuckled. “Just a compliment. You’ve got a vibe—soft yet striking.”
She forced a polite smile. “Can I assist you with something?”
“Sure, I need something for a first date. Nothing too desperate—just enough to convey, ‘I have taste and I’m open to connection.’”
She selected a simple arrangement, clean and subtle colors—not too overwhelming.
He leaned in once more. “What’s your name?”
“Lena.”
“Well, Lena, I’d remember you anywhere.”
Before she could utter a word, the bell above the door chimed.
Elijah.
He entered as if he belonged, crisp button-down shirt, hair perfectly styled, and keen eyes taking in everything. The moment his gaze fell on her, it shifted to the man loitering at the counter.
His jaw tightened—just a fraction.
“Excuse me,” Elijah said, his tone cool. “I need something for solitude.”
Lena stared at him. “Solitude?”
“Something that expresses I’m fine alone. But perhaps I'm not.”
The other man raised an eyebrow. “Deep.”
Elijah ignored him.
Lena kept her hands steady as she turned to select a single white ranunculus. Clean. Simple. Strong.
He handed her cash—exact change, as if he had prepared for this moment.
“I’ll see you around,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “Maybe.”
He departed.
The flirty customer lingered as he paid, as if expecting her to summon him back.
She didn’t.
Martha materialized behind her like a specter. “Well, well.”
“Please, don’t start.”
“Too late for that.”
Lena glanced down at the countertop. Elijah’s receipt remained there, untouched.
She didn’t discard it.
And for reasons she couldn’t comprehend, the thought of the flower lingered in her mind.
Solitude.
But perhaps, not entirely so.
Later that afternoon, the shop fell quiet. Sunlight flooded through the front windows, illuminating tiny dust particles floating in the air.
Lena sat in the back, elbows resting on the workbench, wrestling with thoughts she didn’t dare voice.
She felt no spark with the flirty customer.
But with Elijah? It was something different—neither heat nor desire. It was an unsettling awareness, as though he could see right through her.
Martha poked her head inside. “Daydreaming about those navy eyes, are we?”
Lena let out a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes, the kind of gesture that spoke volumes without needing words. “He’s just a customer,” she muttered under her breath, trying to convince herself as much as anyone else.
“Oh, really?” Martha replied, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe with an almost playful smirk on her face. “You know, I once had a guy look at me with that same kind of intensity. At the time, I convinced myself I wasn’t ready to dive into anything serious. But, honestly, I was just scared. Scared of what could happen if I let my guard down.”
Lena caught Martha's gaze, the kind of eye contact that felt like an unspoken bond between them. “So… what happened with that guy?” she asked curiously.
Martha shrugged, her expression turning a little more serious. “He just stopped showing up, you know? It was like I let my chance slip right through my fingers.”
A heavy silence hung in the air between them, almost palpable, before Martha finally added, “Maybe he found someone else who wasn’t afraid to take a leap.”
Once Martha left, Lena took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their chat lift. She stood up, the floor creaking beneath her, and with a frown of determination, strolled over to the cooler full of vibrant flowers, each one a little masterpiece.
For reasons she couldn’t quite pin down, she found herself reaching for a perfect white ranunculus hidden in the colorful mix.
The soft petals called to her, and she couldn’t resist plucking one. She gently placed it in an old, charming vase at the register. Just one bloom, but it felt way more special.
Later that evening, as the last glimmers of sunlight faded and darkness settled in, Lena began to flick off the lights in the shop. She paused by the front door, her hand hovering over the light switch, stealing a moment to soak in the quietness of the street outside.
She turned the lock with a satisfying click, double-checking it just to be sure. Then, with a contemplative edge, she took one last glance through the glass of the door, her heart a mixture of conflicting emotions.
Half of her wanted him to stay away to dodge any awkwardness, but the other half, her curious side, figured he’d be back. There was just this undeniable vibe between them that made it hard to stay apart.
- Writer
