Weak Hero Short Stories: Gale's Flower-Shop

Gale's Flower-Shop

Dreadfully unenthusiastic is what he was. The splash of water that crept its way into his gumboots each step he took furthered the feeling.

Eugene hated the rain, almost as much as he hated waking up incredibly early to tend to his aunt's flower shop. But the boy appreciated the weekly allowance he got from it. He always has some extra money for school necessities or for a snack he would get at some gas station before school.

Eugene was tasked to take care of the specialty store before it opened just after day break. He would have refused the offer (since it was a choice to begin with) but he always had trouble saying no; which had consequences. He thought back to last year when he lent his math textbook to a delinquent. Never did get the book back, which earned him a ruler to the arse by a teacher who seemed all too willing to inflict pain on the teen.

Oh, and it also meant that some of his money savings would be used for the expensive replacement.

Letting out a thick sigh Eugene faced where the sun rose every morning, hoping to see any sign of light that wanted to peek through murky clouds. Of course, no light wanted to greet him; it's far too early for anyone to be awake at this hour, even for the sun.

Eugene snorted. Lazy hae. He thought, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He decided to continue his tramp down the dully lit street.

Once he reached the doorstep of the rundown café-like building he pulled his keys from his back pocket with a jingle. Putting the shop key into the lock and a twist of the door handle, the chime of a bell sounded.

He met eyes with a mellow lit room after flicking multiple lamps on. Eugene's aunt didn't feel the need for ceiling lights, since there were already enough windows for the sun's glare to reach the plants during the day.

The teen shrugged his gene jacket off onto a coat hanger that sat nearby the front door. Next to the hanger was a shelf just under a decent sized window brimmed up with healthy plants and knick knacks mixed in to attract any passerby's eye.

In front of the window was a wooden desk with drawers that held materials to package up shrubbery for customers. Ribbons, paper, stamps and ink neatly littered the top of the desk.

That was Eugene's station whenever he helped his aunt out when one of her staff member's couldn't make it to the small shop. It wasn't very often, but it did happen.

Above and behind the paying counter were an array of flowers hanging from the ceiling left to air dry. They were guarded so no stray customers would mess with the vegetation's drying process (no one but the shop's staff members were allowed behind it, except for Eugene.)

Eugene's aunt began to position the flowers like that after a group of rowdy teens tore the bundles from the ceiling, ruining countless of people's orders. Lesson learned. Don't expect goodwill from every stranger.

As much as Eugene disliked tending to the plants and cleaning up the annoying piles of dirt they left behind, he had to admit that the shop was quite cozy. He didn't dislike the shop itself, in fact it brought him a sense of peace.

Whenever he was stressed with school work his aunt always re-assured him that he was allowed to go to the little store to get his mind off of things whenever he wanted. Eugene often took up the opportunity. The last time he was at the shop, Eugene had overheard a few costomers say that the store felt almost nostalgic. He understood what they meant. It reminded him of the years he spent running around the shop causing a ruckus whenever his mom needed a break from him. He'd grown quite familiar with the place.

Refraining from wasting any time Eugene got to work. Stepping behind the wooden counter he reached into a small tool closet and grabbed a cornbroom and dustpan. Sweeping up the last remaining soil left on the hardwood floors he leaned the broom against a rich green velvet couch and quickly shoved dirt into a tin trash bin.