The Lost Sense

Prologue

"What's the date today? Well it is hot September, humid 30, old and tiring 2013; it couldn't go any better.

The weather? It feels predictable, and the news had spoke about it; numerous intervals of dry sunshines. I am already wishing I never had listened to the radio, I wanted to start this day and go to school without having an umbrella. Yet the sky still appears so calm and harmless, and the clouds are like threads of thin cottons, embracing our atmosphere. The five o’clock darkness keeping me my faithful wish.

The street? Well, the exact street lights still stands tall and dim at every corner of the road, and the concrete ways are tinted with cold and warm colors as the sun still hasn't set its feet on the skies yet. The wind is freezing, yet there is a soul of inusitate heat between its caresses.

The traffic? It isn't really the time to have a traffic, it's still the spring of tomorrow, and the songs of the busy city hasn't orchestrated yet. But it will be, and the day will be even harder to handle. Our city is like a bottom of an apple, everything lies so bright and red, yet well remain unseen, hidden, and shadowed. Even the people's motion is quite endless, this city has no life, if I am to tell.

Our store front? Yes, it does still have those bright green awnings that brings life to the absence of the block. The window murals still look as fantastic up to now, and everything feels so alive and relieving inside. The only saturated place where everyone would want to enter—whether buying or not—just like a peaceful indoor park.

I could really tell that it is more comfortable inside here at our flower shop, right? The plants looks at their best condition, and are still little sunshines on this dark world.”

“Well, you described our way to the shop again perfectly.” Baekhyun said as he touched the glass door behind him, listening to the last ring of the door chime.

“It’s always a pleasure to do it. Asides medical biology, literature is my true passion.” Suho replied, as he swiftly switched between the counter’s cabinets, picking up piles of full black folders.

Air-conditioning makes the shop feel like a heaven in disguise, everything smelling like pansies, grass, rosewater and sacks of fresh soil adds to the perfection. The door chine once again flickered, sounding like bouncing stainless utensil. Baekhyun propped up and wiped his hand at the edge of his denims, swallowing air and balanced his shoulder in formality.

“Good morning.” He greeted as he approached the customer.

“Uh—can you make me a bouquet that fits for a mother.” A husky voice started talking to him, still feeling the heat from outside that the customer brought in.

“Okay, sir.”

He walked to the areas where he thinks the best flowers are, and suggested to the customer. “Maybe daffodils, sir?” And handed over a stem of the said flower.

“This is perfect. Good choice.”

Baekhyun smiles at the compliment, but he already knew what to give because everyone who asks loves the undying daffodil beauty.

He handed over the bouquet, and reached for the payment. The customer was happy, very happy, and he felt it without words from him.

Suho comes back from the inventory, shocked at how he saw someone walking out of the shop with a bouquet in hand. He rushes over Baekhyun, pulled him by the shoulder.

“Did you just sell that bouquet to a customer?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You never made a bouquet.” Anger in Suho’s tone.

“But the customer was happy.” He looked at the customer, even if he was already a blur of distance.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Suho went back to the inventories, breathing normally and both of his hands in his nape. Baekhyun, walks back to the counter, touching white roses and orchids in his path, tangled in his wide smile.