Syringa Vulgaris
“So, you enjoy growing these flowers?”
The rather-pitched voice triggered the roll-eye movement of the girl with an aqua apron. Her shoulder-length hair was made into a bun. Despite being admittedly annoyed, the girl remained silent as she had been for the past thirty-two and a half minutes. Her attention was on the light purple flowers that were dying. Her heart was breaking into pieces because these were the flowers that originally caught her attention that she changed the course of her life from supposedly being a doctor into a florist.
“I really don’t mind standing here all day, waiting for your work to finish.” There was a short pause as if the voice owner was trying to find the correct words. The girl, on the other hand, started walking away since she had more plants that needed her attention to keeping enjoying the oxygen. “Wait. I know you close your shop at five. Why don’t we go out for a coffee?”
She turned her heels at the question that she found ridiculous, not to mention impolite. The back of her hand was tapped on her forehead a few times in an attempt to discharge the beads of sweat trying to roll down her face. An irritated sigh escaped her parting lips. “I am so sorry, Miss, but I am in the middle of my work right now, why don’t you go bother someone else who is not in the middle of something?”
The girl in the red shirt and ripped jeans flashed a smile at the response she received. It was something expected, given the fact that she very much knew her better than she ever knew herself. “I could really help with the Syringa Vulgaris that are dying over there,” she pointed to the big flower pot with withering flowers before continuing, “especially when you used to help me years ago.”
“Pardon?” She asked with her eyebrows quirked. If confusion could be translated into a facial expression, mayhaps it would be the girl’s right now. “I don’t follow.”
Feeling excited, she took out a piece of paper from her back pocket and handed it to the other figure. “It is a picture of me three years ago. It was taken here. And the girl standing next to me is you.”
She took the photo rather carefully. Her brain worked extremely hard to remember whether she really did take a photo with this girl or not. No matter how hard she tried, though, it was to no avail. So she decided to unfold the thick paper only to elicit a gasp.
“Yes, I am Lilac. Your very first flower. So, how about coffee at five? I would love to tell you everything.” Lilac finally uttered. A smile accompanied her utterance as she was feeling genuinely delighted.
“No.” It was a firm, cold, two-lettered word. The smile on Lilac’s face was almost gone when she continued. “I will close my shop now. Give me ten minutes.”
FIN.
