Roses for Jubilee

Jack Pories couldn't remember when Jubilee first came into his life. It seemed to him that she had come out of nowhere, and now she wouldn't leave his mind. He remembered the day she refused to leave his head like it was yesterday, although he knew it had happened a fortnight ago, give or take a few days.

It had been a perfectly normal day in Rosegarden, a small southern town so unheard of that it rarely appeared on maps, and was also his birth town.

Jack woke before his alarm, a smile on his face as he dressed, wasting no time getting up and getting ready. He dressed himself in a stained apron, a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and old dark jeans that had a tear in the left knee. He tugged his black boots on before he brushed his teeth and ate a cream cheese bagel on the way down the steps of his apartment building, flagging down a passing taxi just in time.

Jack had been using public transportation, primarily cabs, ever since his car got damaged because he didn't have enough money to pay the repair fees. He didn't mind, however, he was enjoying the new lifestyle and he never found himself longing for his own vehicle.

He gave the driver the directions as he climbed in and quickly finished his small meal in the cab before they arrived at the shopping district a few blocks down. His smile widened still as the driver parked outside of The Blue Rose, his pride and joy.

Jack had given it the name for symbolic reasons, saying that his shop was a rare beauty, but he promptly regretted it after customers kept coming in and asking for blue roses.

As he looked up at the letters above the door, he noticed, as he did every morning, that he could still see the faded imprint of letters from the shop's previous occupation, a small Mexican restaurant that had gone out of business three days before he had returned to the town.

Jack hopped out of the cab and tipped the driver, already fumbling in his pockets for the two keys he kept on a single loop, one for his shop and one for his apartment. He plugged one of them into the lock, twisting until the door creaked open, the cheerful chime of the bell above the door ringing out in the store.

He raced over to the curtains as he threw them open, basking in the morning sunlight and how it lit his floral shop up with brilliance, reflecting off every petal. The sky blue walls reflected Jack's mood as he set about his regular routine, skipping along as he adjusted all the labels on the baskets, taking inventory of all he had and all he was missing. He went to every display table, each wall lined with hooks where the baskets hung, and the set of "do it yourself" flowers set in holders on the wall behind himself.

When Jack finished looking around, he snatched up his secret stash of vases hidden under his desk, each filled with an assortment of spare flowers, and set to work.

He equipped himself with his thick gloves and trimmers and set about fiddling away with the different flowers in the basket before him. Spring Basket, he named it uncreatively, and it was as he thought this that the bell above the door rang. He turned to face the oncoming customer, marveling at the way her grey hair puffed out like cotton candy before she spoke, bringing his pale brown eyes down to her milky blue ones.

     "Is there anyone else working here today?" she asked, her eyes narrowed with focused hostility as she crossed her frail arms, her droopy skin folding over itself like pancakes as they were squeezed together.

Jack shook his head, no, before offering an explanation.

     "No, ma'am, I'm the only one here."

He decided not to mention how he would always be the only one there. It was a small business he had made on his own and was struggling to keep up and running. There was no extra money to be spent on employees.