The Tuesday morning heat arrived with a heavy, oppressive humidity that made the air inside the shop feel thick and stationary. By nine o'clock, the sun was already beating down hard on the concrete alley outside, forcing us to keep the front glass doors firmly shut and the old, rattling air conditioner running at its maximum capacity. The mechanical hum of the unit provided a steady, white-noise backdrop to the quiet scraping of my plastic rake against the wooden floor tiles.
Hijomi was sitting at the far end of the worktable, his head resting in his hands as he meticulously separated a massive bundle of imported baby's breath into smaller, delicate sprigs. For once, he wasn't singing along to the radio or gossiping about the local neighborhood chismis; the heat had effectively sapped hi
