Rock and Roses

1

It's a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the quiet town of Sundale.

The sky is blue, dotted with occasional white clouds. Yellow and pink flowers seem to grow everywhere. Peaceful silence surrounds the town square, save for a fountain that bubbles pleasantly in the center of the town square, and pigeons that fly overhead and coo as they pass by.

Gentle rays of sunlight fall upon Minho, who is idly watering the assortment of colorful flowers at the forefront of his shop.

Minho owns a quaint little flower shop under the name of 'Verdant Oasis'. It was built into Sundale sometime before he was born, and now that his parents are retired, it's become a family heirloom of sorts. Minho inherited the shop when he turned twenty-three, and business has been thriving ever since.

The plants adore him to bits - and yes, Minho can tell - so much so that there's no shortage of requests for bouquets when he works his magic with them.

(Maybe that's because there is a hint of magic dusted on his fingertips whenever he's within the presence of nature, but that's neither here nor there. It's no secret that Sundale's residents wield forms of magic, from completely unconventional to somewhat useful.)

Minho hums along to the generic pop radio playing through the shop as he waters each flower carefully - paying extra attention to their complaints of 'how thirsty [they] are! More water please! More, more, more! I need sustenance!' - until the watering can runs dry.

As he saunters over towards the back of the shop, Minho spots something that makes him pause.

There, through the pastel gingham curtains and open window, is a moving truck.

Minho watches as multiple men in sweaty coveralls haul furniture into the vacant storefront beside his shop. It was previously owned by a charming woman named Son Seulgi; she sold pastries and other baked goods there until opportunity led her elsewhere.

Minho chews expectantly on his lower lip. It would be great to have a bookstore open up next door. Anything quiet will do, really. The last thing he hopes for is a degenerate tattoo parlor, or smoke shop, or a-

A loud, crackling guitar riff followed by an ear-splitting rock record blares from inside the vacant storefront - it drowns out Minho's pop radio entirely.

Minho winces and drops the empty watering pail onto the wooden floor. CRASH! He briefly considers sticking his fingers in his ears before realizing that probably won't help.

The plants shrink away from the window, petals closing in and all, clearly annoyed by the sudden disruption. 'Ouch! So...noisy! Make it stop!'

Minho huffs, glaring daggers at the vacant storefront. There goes his wish for a quiet neighbor. He, alongside his plants, are going to have to put up with that?

Every day?

For the foreseeable future?

"No thanks," Minho grumbles bitterly, bending over to grab the watering can. He tries to ignore the heading beginning to bloom in the back of his mind.

Minho groans and rubs his temples when the music only continues to get louder, and louder. He supposes that this means he can kiss 'peace and quiet' goodbye, for the gods have decided to rudely torture him with a cacophonous neighbor next door.

Ugh.