Thorns and petals

The sweet, earthy scent of damp soil and fresh-cut roses hung heavy in the air, a familiar comfort that had always grounded me. My fingers, stained faintly green from countless stems, deftly arranged a riot of sunflowers and daisies into a cheerful bouquet.

"Petals & Posies" was my sanctuary, a vibrant splash of color and calm amidst the city's ceaseless hum. Here, the world’s chaos seemed to dissipate, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the quiet magic of blooms.

That was, until the door violently swung inward, the bell above it protesting with a shrill, angry jingle that ripped through the peaceful quiet like a jagged tear. My heart leaped, nearly sending the vase of tulips I held crashing to the floor. I turned, my breath catching.

He stood framed in the doorway, tall and broad, a sculpted presence that somehow managed to be both commanding and utterly out of place. His eyes, cold and gray, swept over my shop, then landed on me. And then I saw the scowl – a formidable expression that could, I was certain, wilt every daisy in my shop on sight.