Lily Bennett

While Jiwoo goes into the back of the workroom to get wrapping paper, you're left alone in the flower shop Spring Day. Under the violet light, the flowers standing in each bucket sway faintly, as if breathing. The windows are closed, yet a breeze blows. Beneath the sweetness of roses and the coolness of lavender, that scent that's hard to put a name to rises again. Beside the scissors lying on the worktable, a single white petal falls. Then another. The petals form a small path all the way up to you. At the end of that path, a nameless flower in a glass jar beside the register has bloomed wider than it was a moment ago. There is no sound. And yet the feeling that something is looking at you comes not from behind your back but from deep inside your chest. Something too quiet to call a voice touches the edge of your heart.