Here I find myself once again, surrounded by the familiar sights and scents of my shop. I'm seated at my worn wooden desk in the secluded back office, the dim light casting long shadows across the cluttered space. As I gently massage my temples, I silently hope that this insistent headache will relent and allow me some respite. It's almost laughable – the idea that I could forget the touch of a single flower. After all, I've dedicated the past eight years of my life to this very shop, carefully arranging delicate gardenias, vibrant pansies, and the fragrant lily of the valley. Yet, in this moment, I can't help but question my true understanding of these blossoms. Flowers, the embodiment of purity in nature, possess an unexpected duality. Take the alluring Datura, for instance. Its ethereal beauty belies its potential for nightmarish consequences at the slightest taste. It's a reminder that even the most exquisite things can have a darker side. In a way, it's reminiscent of love itself – a captivating concept that can hold both the promise of bliss and the threat of devastating repercussions. Once again, my thoughts are consumed by love. It's inevitable, really. I can't shake the memory of that client from my mind. Her mesmerizing green eyes, framed by her ginger hair, seem to have taken root in my thoughts. I can still recall the fruity fragrance she wore, which lingered in the air long after she left. Her voice was soft and trusting, perfectly complementing her delicate and gentle appearance. She exuded an air of purity that was simply captivating.
For weeks now, she has been the sole occupant of my thoughts. Every week, like clockwork, she visits my shop to select a fresh bouquet of flowers, always opting for seasonal colors. Her beauty is simply unparalleled, and yet all I have managed to say to her are the same daily greetings and farewells I offer to every customer who walks through my shop's doors.
Why, after mere fleeting encounters, does she occupy my mind's darkest recesses? Her visage haunts me in intimate, moonlit spaces. Her phantom moans echo in my ears, mingling with the heavy cadence of her breath. I see her unclothed, my hands tracing the curves I've only just begun to know. The images are vivid, carnal - her bent backwards, entwined, limbs wrapped around me. Our minds entwine as our bodies might, her laughter transforming into gasps, her gaze locked onto mine. Her perfume lingers in my nostrils, a scent that now triggers illicit thoughts. I yearn to taste her lips, to feel them part beneath mine, to hear the hitch in her breath as I pull her close-
I stop myself and take a moment to reflect. What am I thinking? She's a client, for goodness' sake. But these forbidden thoughts consume me, almost monopolizing every corner of my mind. It's as if I've known her for a lifetime, as if our souls have intertwined in ways I can't comprehend.
I push myself back away from the cluttered desk, taking a moment to gather my thoughts and belongings. As I glance out the window, the moon casts a soft glow over the familiar streets of my old city. I step into my car, the engine humming to life as I navigate through the quiet, moonlit roads, heading back to my cozy one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment.
After unlocking the door, I enter the dimly lit space and drop my belongings, feeling the weight of the day settle on my shoulders. Collapsing onto my bed, I let out a heavy sigh, allowing my tired eyes to flutter shut. My hands find their place under the pillow as I sink into the comfort of my own solitude.
When I open my eyes again, I find myself staring at the ceiling, the emptiness of the room amplifying the longing for the warmth of a non-existent partner beside me. I yearn for the closeness and connection that seems so out of reach. In that moment, I can't help but wish for a way to turn my longing into reality.
Once again, I let out a sigh as I found myself gradually slipping into slumber. The uneventful events of the day sprawled in my mind, replaying like a vivid movie before finally succumbing to sleep.
