Bouquet of Misery

Tulips

His hands twitched slightly as he saw someone walk past him. His cap was low, barely revealing his eyes. Was it really her? He looked at the ground, but noticed the clicking sound of her heels at the register of the flower shop he was delivering to. The pounding of his heart made him glance upwards at the woman. Her sleek brunette hair pulled into a bun that was neatly set on top of her head, her tone of skin matched the dark outfit she wore like she was ready to get onto a plane for a business trip. He couldn't help but smile. His head tilted down lower and closed his eyes to concentrate on the sounds around him, wanting to hear her voice,

"Just some poppies and purple lilacs."

Such a silky and confident tone, she would make a wonderful addition or maybe the last addition. Something inside of him wanted to go up and talk to her, but at the same time he knew he must test her, just to be sure that she really is the one. He couldn't make any more mistakes. The last one had really been a screamer...

Grabbing a pot of cheap pansies, he slowly walked over to a shelf while glancing at her. He set the pot on the end of the shelf and once he let go, the pot crashed onto the floor. The sound startled everyone in the shop, including her. He looked up with a slightly pink face. He knew what was about to happen, and sure enough the owner stormed over to him and began to yell at his face without any hesitation,

"This has been the third time you dropped my profit! Do you understand how much money I will continue to lose if you continue this behavior?"

Was she looking? Was she going to do anything?

He just nodded silently, acting scared and guilty of his actions, trying his best to bite his grin back, she needed to believe this. He waited, wishing and praying that she would come over to help him. When he looked up to face the owner, his dream came true. Everything froze for a moment.

The sunlight was capturing her hair, it glistened in the light as she smoothly walked, almost floating that made her hands swing back and forth with a rhythm. There were streaks of rainbows along the puddles of the floor which reflected off her dark chocolate eyes. He felt a lump in his throat, and a sudden urge to just grab her and hide her away for himself forever. Which is well... what he was planning to do anyways.

He watched as the woman walked over with a disgusted face towards the owner. The same kind of face that he burned into his brain from all those years ago, the face that defended him and would eventually fall for him. She pulled the owner backwards to face her,

"Calm down would you! Here," She took a twenty dollar bill from her wallet, thin, covered in black leather that was polished and indented with stitches, and handed it to the owner, "That should pay for it, people make some mistakes and you're already a prosperous store. You can cover the cost within the next sale." She said matter of factly to him.

The owner was almost stunned that such a lowly customer could debate with him.

"Are you trying to run my shop out of business? This is a family owned shop that has stood here for 35 years! Look at the building sign!"

The woman laughed for a second and shot back with a dark glare, "Excuse me sir, but have you ever heard the title 'Pine Inc.'?"

The owner nodded back, his hands crossed over his chest and foot tapping onto the floor impatiently.

"Well you see sir, this shop isn't owned by your family, and you know that. That's one of our mottos to get customers to flow into your doors, you wouldn't want to lose any more privileges right?"

The owner's face turned pale as he realized who this woman was, "Right! I apologize! Please go on about your day!" He scrambled back to his office with terror and locked the door.

The woman huffed slightly and turned toward him, "Are you alright sir? That was such a preposterous action!"

He smiled slightly loving every bit that he was seeing, the stubbornness in her, that vocabulary she used, 'prosperous', 'preposterous.' Plus a woman who caters these shops! Even better than he imagined, he felt a grin appear on his face, maybe it really was her. But there was one last thing he wanted to know before he could return home and plan.

"I'm alright, thank you very much. What is your name miss?"

She smiled slightly and held her hand out, friendliness, almost a little too much but that just shows how confident she is about herself. "My name is Angela."

He took a firm, but comforting grip onto Angela's hand, "Michael. Thanks for saving me back there," His voice was steady, a little lower than intended, but that seemed to draw her more into him. When they drew their hands back, he lightly scratched the back of his head and looked at her with husky eyes.

That got her attention for sure. He could almost see how she leaned into him. Her eyebrow raised as she chuckled slightly, such an ambient laugh. "It wasn't a problem at all." There was a little bit of silence, where he looked into her eyes and saw it. Saw that she needed something in her life, someone in her life. There was a gaping hole that needed to be filled, he was going to help her fulfill that need.

"Order number three!"

Angela turned to look at her order on the table and then turned back to him, "Well, have a nice day!" She waved him goodbye as she retrieved her flowers from the desk and strided to wherever she was headed off to.

His gaze lingered at the door, his mind repeated and replayed the moments they shared in that short of time. He clutched his chest as he headed back to deliver the rest of the flowers. The pounding and buzzing of his heart filled his head for the rest of his shift. When he got into his car, he could feel the twitch of his left leg. It caused him to swerve multiple times on the road and recieve a couple of irritated honks from the cars behind him. Though he could care less about hiding his identity with this rush.

The door slammed shut as the sound of frantic movements were echoed along the cozy walls of his home. A one-story house with a bathroom, basement, kitchen, and two bedrooms. One of which he uses as his 'testing' rooms. Once he was able to set everything aside, he went into his bedroom and automatically reached for his journal, flipping through pages and pages of names and flowers and bouquets. When he finally landed on an empty page, he picked up his pen and slowly spelled out every letter, savoring the moment and memorizing how each motion represented an emotion.

He whispered softly to himself as he traced the letters that he had freshly written on the new page,

"Angela..."