nighthawk | tk ✔️

05

the morning arrived draped in a haze of gray, cloaking the city streets in a quiet chill. i stood at my usual post across from his building, a shadow among the shadows. today felt different. today, i would learn more, pull back one more layer of the mystery that was him.

7:30 a.m. sharp. he stepped out, his figure blending into the crowd before I could blink, and i slipped into his wake. he walked with an easy grace, soft steps that barely disturbed the pavement beneath. each turn, every movement was something to decode, like his life was a book only i could understand, if i studied it close enough.

as we weaved through the streets, i watched him disappear down a side road and slip into a narrow shop tucked away between taller, less forgiving buildings. it was small, almost invisible, but it seemed to radiate its own quiet beauty. flower shop. of course. he was a florist. it made sense, seeing him framed by those colors, lost in a world of things that could easily wither.

i crossed the street, lingering outside. through the glass, i could see him moving around, his gentle hands reaching for the delicate stems as he arranged them in intricate patterns only he understood. he looked like he belonged there, surrounded by flowers and fragments of light, as if he had the power to nurture beauty in a world that knew none.

i hesitated, fingers brushing the door handle, before stepping inside.

the soft chime of the bell pulled his attention, and he glanced up, surprise flashing in his eyes before he masked it with a polite smile.

"good morning," he greeted, his voice low and gentle, like the soft hum of a hidden melody. "can i help you?"

his presence washed over me, and i felt the urge to answer as if i’d known him forever. but i kept my voice steady, playing the role. "i… i’m looking for something special," i murmured. "for someone important."

"flowers can say a lot," he said, stepping out from behind the counter. his movements were smooth, effortless, like he was in his element. "do you have a specific type in mind?"

i could feel his gaze on me, like he was trying to understand me, to read me. but i had practiced too long to let anything slip. "something that lasts," i replied, my eyes never leaving his. "something that doesn’t wilt so easily."

his lips curved up, just slightly, as he nodded and moved toward the shelves. "you sound like someone who values meaning over appearance."

"maybe," i replied, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. i watched as he selected a few lilies, his touch as delicate as if each petal held a secret.

"lilies are symbols of purity and renewal," he said, holding them out to me with a quiet reverence. "they might be what you're looking for."

i took the flowers, fingers brushing his, a spark snapping in the brief contact. "i think… you might be right."

his eyes lingered on me, as if he could sense something hidden beneath my calm facade. a moment passed, a moment where i wondered if he saw more than i intended.

"thank you," i murmured, feeling the weight of those flowers in my hands. it felt like more than just a purchase, more than just a transaction. "i’ll… be back, i think."

he nodded, that gentle smile of his barely flickering. "i'm always here. take care."

i left the shop, clutching the lilies in one hand, their pale petals already bending under my grip. across the street, i looked back, watching him fade into the soft light of his world of flowers, completely unaware of the darkness waiting outside. today was only the beginning—soon he’d learn that once the nighthawk sets its sights, there is no escaping.