Sugar Cane Chocolate: Sunflower

    I pull the flower shop apron on over my head slow and tired, brushing it out and leaning over the counter a moment to stretch out my back. The night before had been rough. Dealing with boyfriend issues to the point where I gave up and spent the night on the couch watching romantic comedies, eating ice cream and ignoring the phone calls. Eventually I fell asleep in the most uncomfortable position possible. I regretted it when I woke up with the worst pain in my back.
    The owner of the shop, and my good friend, Faye, walks out and absently rubs at my back. She’s normally the person I confide in when things go wrong so she knows. Also she doesn’t prod until I’m ready to talk about it, and for now I just sort of want to lay on the counter. It’s stretching my back out and it actually starts to feel at least a bit better.
“Hate to be so mean, but today is going to be busy, it’s May Day or something. Might just have to walk it off, deary.” She informs me in a harshly, loving, motherly tone and I groan, picking myself up with a sigh. “Atta girl, Lydia,” And she continues to rub my back for a few more moments.
    My problems are soon forgotten as people start shuffling in demanding flowers and throwing flowers in my face to be rung up until I actually feel like I’m drowning in the things. Thankfully it dies down around three which is when Faye rushes out of the shop to pick up her daughters from the bus, yelling to me before she leaves, “We can talk when I get back, I promise.” And I’m expecting to be alone for the next hour so I get comfortable leaning over a news paper. I only stare at the pictures.
    I wasn’t alone for very long, maybe ten minutes or so before I hear the little bell over the door chime. “When a bell rings, an angel get’s its wings,” My brain reminds me, and I feel like scoffing. I keep my eyes to the news paper on the counter, not going to look up until they’re directly in front of me. It’s a man, in his late twenties maybe, and he’s smiling strangely but it’s comforting for some reason. “Can… Can I help you sir?” I ask and his smile falters a bit as if he’s unsure. He’s handsome in a way that I’m not used to. His hair and eyes are dark while his skin is olive toned. He pulls a hat - a fedora - off before talking.
    “Just in to get some flowers,” His voice is lightly accented, “It was feeling bland today.” I tilt my head curiously, but keep my business face on as I hopped off my stool, and fall into the normal routine of questions. “Well, we can start with the basics,” I walk around the counter and invite him to follow me. “What’s your favorite flower?” He looks around with brown eyes at the assortment of flowers around the small shop only to shake his head.
    He laughs a bit, “You’re the one who works with flowers, what would you get for a gray day?” He looks down at me before crouching down to picking up an abandoned daisy on the floor. Furrowing my brows I spot some sunflowers, which in my opinion are the opposite of bland, and pull a few down. “I know you probably hate when people come in and do this to you,” He walks over to me with the sunflowers cradled in my arms, “But it’s more like I’m not good when it comes to flowers.” He cringes at himself and stares down at the daisy between his fingers as he twirls it.
I hum, “Oh that’s different then. That’s very different,” I pull down a few Queen Ann’s Lace to put with the sunflowers, and walk back to the counter. He stays standing there silently with the daisy in his hand as if he has nothing better to do.
    “I just thought of a girl who might like these more than my house.” Looking out the window he finishes the hum that I had started, forgetting the flower in his hand a moment, letting it fall to the floor. “She has a very troubled mind, I can’t tell why, but it’s plainly written on her face,” I forget he’s actually there for a while and just listen about this girl while I prepare the flowers that I guess are for her now. He speaks of her as if she is both happy and miserable half of the time and the other half he says she seems quiet, keeping to herself maybe. He had picked up the daisy again before walking over and smiling, still fingering the flower. “There are thousands of girls in this city, I doubt you’ve met her.”
    “No, I guess I can’t say I’ve ever met her - what’s her name?” I look back down at the flowers and move them to the tissue paper, wrapping them neatly. He chuckles and pulls at the edge of the counter, shaking his head to say he didn’t know her name either. I couldn’t tell if I should try and find this girl to tell her she’s being stalked, but I guess you have to give people the benefit of the doubt.
    He stares down at his hands and smiles softly, “She’s very beautiful though, you know?” I almost feel jealous of this random girl who unknowingly has this, what I assume is an Italian man doting on her without her even knowing. With a sigh I nod, smiling at him while tying a ribbon around the tissue paper.
    “Did you want to put a note with it?”
    “Yes that would be nice, thank you.”
    I hand him the tiny pink note paper with a pen, and he bends over it so I can’t see, but he has a smirk on his face, I can see that. He hands me back the note for me to tie it with a bow and hold the bouquet out to him with both hands while he takes it in one and whispers, “Grazie, love.” Confirming my Italian assumption. He runs a finger over the petals of the sunflowers before flicking his eyes up towards me, still smirking.
    For a moment I’m not sure if somethings wrong or if he just feels like standing in here a while. “Was there anything else you needed?” I ask, just to keep my nerves calm. He shakes his head and straightens his back, shifting his weight a bit before walking around the counter and pressing the flowers into my hands and leaning forward to kiss my cheek. He then pushes the daisy into my hair, smiling at it before taking a step back to look at me.
    “Beautiful…” He whispers and then slowly, not taking his eyes off me, he walks to the door and steps out of the shop. I panic at first and set the flowers down, petting the daisy before running to the door before running back to the counter to grabbing the flowers and the keys to the door and pocketing them.
    Warm, Spring air rushes around me, throwing my hair around while I look for which way he went until seeing him pull a hat on, pulling it down so the rim covers his eyes. “Wait!” I yell, holding the flowers close to my chest as I run towards him, weaving around people until he stops at the corner to cross. I smash into him, throwing myself off balance while crushing the sunflowers and Queen Ann’s lace between us. “Oh, oops,” I push the flowers around and sigh, they’d live, if I got lucky. I feel him put his hands on my arms, reminding me that I just ran into him. “I wanted to find out your name, if you don’t mind.” He laughed, fishing around for the note on the flower bow, holding it up for me to read, but honestly I could only pronounce his name, crinkling my nose. “Dante… Wait, but what does the rest mean?”
    He hums, pulling me aside by my arm gently, out of the way of all the people who want to cross the street. “Well, miss curious,” He starts, holding the note between us, “Sorriso per favore-“
    “Well I know that means please…” He raises a brow at me and I bite my lip, letting him continue.
    We both look at the note paper, “Sorriso per favore, voglio vedere come si presenta… Well in a very subtle way, I was asking you if you would please smile.” He looks up at me for a reaction and smiles, handing me the mangled flowers. Feeling a wave of shyness wash over me, I look down at our feet and smiled.