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EVERY TUESDAY, without fail and like clockwork, he would walk into the flower shop. And every time, he would need to duck his head, because the doorframe was too short for him.
I had to be blind not to notice him—and every single time, I found myself pretending that I was. I would conveniently slip away from the cash register, and let Mae take orders instead.
I didn’t know why I hid from him. Maybe I wanted to spy on him in secret. Maybe he was quickly becoming my favourite thing to observe.
At 5’7, I wasn’t exactly short. But this man could give me a run for my money.
He was easily around eight inches taller than me, and it forced him to bend a considerable amount to reach a bouquet on the middle shelf.
The muscle under his tattooed sleeve shifted when he did, the slightest movement sending my heart into a quicker beat.
Three Tuesdays in a row he had come —7:30 am sharp. And every single time, he’d picked the same bouquet. Pink tulips.
The girl he was chasing after had to know she was lucky. It was New York. Paired with the abundance of no strings attached hook ups and online dating apps, people moved fast, and if you were rejected, it would only take you a few days to find someone new.
“Indigo.” Mae’s voice snapped me out of my daze.
I glanced at her.
“He’s gone.”
I stepped out from my hiding place —the storeroom, with a sheepish look. You could get a perfect view of the shop if you stood in the doorway of the storeroom, and you were invisible to anyone except for the person at the register.
Mae had quickly figured out my game. She agreed to help me out, even though she found it bizarre. It was always the same old story afterward though.
“Why don’t you talk to him for once?” she asked. “What’s the point of hiding?”
I scrunched my face. “I don’t want to talk to him. It’s just… nice to just watch from afar. Besides, I have Kade.”
“No.” She laughed. “You don’t.”
“Shut it.”
Mae’s approach to my Kade-crisis had become “troll Indigo relentlessly about her breakup and encourage violent revenge over said ex”.
I was still getting used to it. She kept telling me to delete the pictures of us on my phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to.
While every other aspect of my life had become a dreary, exhausting sort of hamster’s wheel consisting of toothbrush shopping, campus, studying, shifts at the shop and avoiding Scarlett at night, the stranger’s appearance had become something to look forward to.
I’d noticed a few things in my strange observation. Other than the fact that he was tall, of course. He didn’t let his hair grow.
On the second Tuesday, it had grown out in the slightest, the dark blonde shade shifting his features and making them less harsh. On the third, his hair had been shorn back to its original buzzcut. I secretly lamented over it.
Another: he always paid extra. When Mae pointed it out, he just said, “Keep the change.”
And the last? His voice was quiet. Low. Rough, but only on the edges, with the cadence of wood and smoke.
This was the point when I was most tempted to sneak out of the safety of the storeroom and confront him.
But I never did.
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Fragile Little Things ✓
Roman d'amourIndigo Gallagher was born with osteochondroma, a condition that leaves her physically fragile. Between shifts at her granʼs flower shop and her tumultuous relationship, all she wants is to get through her second year of pre-med unscathed. Although...
