Just breathe, Carol.

Just breathe. You can do this.

It's just like riding a bike.

Except it wasn't and suddenly she wasn't so sure of what she was doing.

"Can I help you with something, ma'am?"

Carol turned towards the voice. An older man with a white beard and a shirt that read, 'Herschel's Nursery', was staring at her kindly. She noticed that the corners of his blue eyes crinkled when he smiled. For some reason that she couldn't explain, he set her at ease.

"I-" Flowers. That's what she had come here for. "I need a flower," she explained.

He tilted his head in thought and nodded as if he had expected as much. But what else would she have been here for?

"What's the occasion?"

And there it was.

That sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach had returned and the memories came rushing back, threatening to bring with it another round of tears for the day.

She was so tired of crying.

"They're for my daughter." Her voice was a near whisper.

The man's smile blossomed. "What's her favorite color?"

"Yellow. Her favorite color is- was yellow."

A moment of understanding passed over the man's features and his smile died a little. He didn't let that deter him though as he looked over his shoulder as if searching for something or someone.

"Daryl!"

There was a loud smack and then the sounds of muffled cursing before a voice returned, "Yeah?"

"Come out here a minute, Son."

Carol did her best to wait as patiently as possible even though she was more than ready to get the hell out of there. Dealing with people just wasn't something she was ready for even though she had desperately wanted to be.

She was so tired of just existing. She wanted to live.

Daryl walked over, his eyes quietly assessing her in a way that caused irritation to stir within Carol. His dark brown hair looked nearly black, with strands falling forward into his eyes just enough to make her want to find a pair of scissors.

"This young lady is looking for some yellow flowers for her daughter," the white-haired man explained.

Daryl nodded once, his eyes sliding back and forth between them. Suddenly she wished that she had just went to the supermarket and picked something out. At least there she would have been more than likely to slip in and out unnoticed. Except she knew that the supermarket wouldn't have anything near as fresh and beautiful as this place.

"Well I'll leave you two kids to it. The name's Herschel and my son Daryl will take good care of you." He smiled at her again.

Carol knew this was the moment when her manners should kick in and she would introduce herself, but she remained quiet and impassive. She just wanted the flowers. Why couldn't they just give her the flowers so that she could go?

Yellow flowers, that's all she needed.

"How old is your daughter?" Daryl asked as Herschel walked away to help another customer.

"Nine," Carol replied softly. "Can you just show me what you have please?" The tone of her voice came out more biting than she had intended, but she didn't apologize for it. She had done enough of that in her lifetime.

"Right this way," Daryl said and he abruptly turned, leaving her to follow.

The greenhouse was fairly big, with five long columns inside and dozens of greenery located on the outside. The flowers looked lush and beautiful, their leaves sparkling with the moisture from a recent watering. It was apparent to her that Herschel took great pride in his plants.

"These are what we have in yellow right now," Daryl spoke up from several feet away.

Carol wandered over and glanced at the flowers, but none of them really seemed to spark her interest. They were without a doubt beautiful, but they weren't the ones she wanted. Maybe she would keep her options open to flowers of a different color. The thought of putting something other than Sophia's favorite color out saddened her though.

"This is really all you have? I figured a greenhouse would have way more to choose from than this."

Daryl raised a brow, but didn't directly comment on her tone. "I can show you something in a different color," he offered.

"But yellow is her favorite," Carol insisted.

He nodded. "Okay. Well then this is what we have now."

"These won't do." Carol's palms started to sweat. She should just walk away, just leave and go by the supermarket for some yellow roses.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do about that. I can show you some real pretty flowers that I think your daughter mi-"

"Her favorite color is yellow!" Carol's voice rose above a normal conversational tone and she quickly lowered her voice as Herschel and several others glanced their way in concern.

"Hey, you okay?" She felt Daryl's hand lightly touch her shoulder and she flinched, pulling away.

"Do I look okay?"

He narrowed his eyes, obviously fed up with her rude demeanor. Not that she could blame him. She knew how she was acting. What she didn't know was how to stop it. She was a mess and she knew it. Why hadn't she just stayed home?

"Maybe you should bring your daughter by and let her choose which ones she likes," he suggested.

"She's dead," Carol blurted. She rubbed a hand over her forehead and realized that she was lightly sweating. Her hands trembled and she tried to inhale deep breaths in order to keep herself calm. Her body refused to cooperate though.

She barely paid any attention as Daryl shuffled past her. She needed to find the exit. No way was she having this panic attack in front of these people. She would go home and suffer in silence without an audience and then tomorrow she would come up with another plan. But even as she turned for the exit, Daryl was back with a flower pot in his hand.

Carol was distracted long enough to gaze upon the flower and the light perfume tickled her nose as Daryl thrust the pot into her hands. The flower had white petals, but in the center it was a beautiful golden...yellow. Carol just stared at it, unsure of what to do when Daryl began talking.

"This is the Cherokee Rose," Daryl explained.

"Cherokee Rose?" Carol repeated distractedly.

Daryl nodded, but his attention was on the flower, the light in his eyes radiant as he stroked his fingers lightly over the petals. "It's the state flower of Georgia. There's a legend to this flower. Wanna hear it?" He raised his eyes and as they locked with hers she swallowed, her throat noticeably less tight. All she could do was nod and wait.

"There's a place called, 'The Trail of Tears', in Oklahoma, where the mothers of the Cherokee were grieving and crying so much from their journey West that they were unable to help their children survive the journey. They prayed for a sign of strength. The legend goes to say that the Gods looked down upon them and as the tears of the mother's dropped to the ground, he changed them into stone in the shape of a Cherokee Rose. The next day a beautiful white rose began to grow from where each of the tears had fallen. See this?" Daryl stroked the white petal, a soft smile on his face. "The rose is white for their tears and the yellow represents the gold taken from their lands. The seven leaves on each stem are for the seven Cherokee clans. They are a representation of their pain and suffering, but also from their strength." Daryl glanced at her and Carol gazed back at him in wonder as he continued, "Because through their suffering, they found strength. This is why I think you should get this one for your daughter." He looked away, breaking eye contact and Carol took a deep breath of air, surprised to find that the crushing weight from mere moments ago had disappeared.

She looked down at the flower in her arms and leaned in close, drawing its scent deep into her lungs. "My daughter would have really loved that. She was a big fan of historical facts," Carol admitted.

Daryl nodded in understanding. "Anyway. That's the story. Take it or leave it," he mumbled.

Carol took a deep breath and for the first time in a long time a small smile teased her lips.

"I'll take it."