Author's note: when writing chapter fics, only about a third of what I write gets in the final product. Either I change my mind, don't like what I've done, or it just doesn't fit. For my fic "A Child Of The Street" there was somewhere between 7-13 deleted chapters. It was such a mess I don't even know. But there was one chapter I was sad to take out and ended up adapting into a short story. Here it is. I don't own Little Shop of Horrors or Seymour Krelborn. But you can take Alana from my cold dead hands

Summer 1952: Seymour is 11 years old

The door of the shop jingled and Seymour looked up, not at the door but at the back. Mr. Mushnik had often expressed how crummy Seymour was at making sales, and decided to handle them all himself. Where was he though? Had he left Seymour alone? Hesitantly, Seymour turned around.

In the doorway of the shop stood a woman. Seymour was unable to place her, but something seemed familiar or special. She wore a pink floral dress under a fall coat. Seymour wondered why would she be wearing a coat in the summertime when it wouldn't be necessary until the end of September. On her face she was absolutely beaming with joy.

"H-hi welcome to Mushnik's," Seymour stuttered.

She let go of the door and took several steps inside. Where was Mr. Mushnik?

"Can I help you find anything?" Think of something else moron! "I can help. I'm Seymour."

She gave the slightest of nods. "Hi Seymour."

She brought one hand to her mouth and looked as if she were about to cry. Whether joy or sadness he couldn't tell.

"You're here now. Time sure does fly. My, how big you've gotten."

Seymour stood there dumbstruck and at a loss for words. This was odd. Uncomfortable with the silence he began to wring his hands as he often did. He realized she was doing so as well. He shoved them behind his back as a smile crept on his lips.

"Is… is there anything I can help you find?"

She smiled. "Yes. What do you have?"

Seymour's eyes widened and he ran his hand through his hair. "Oh gee! Well we have daffodils, lilies, tulips, roses…"

"Roses are tricky little things," she thought out loud.

Seymour didn't know what she meant so she explained. "Their pH balance is tough to maintain. Deadheading them can be a real pain as well with all the thorns, and you have to do it right."

Seymour's eyes grew. "You like plants too?"

She smiled. "As much as Skid Row would allow."

Seymour was smiling wide. "Roses ARE tough. I've tried to grow my own too. But I've learned that their minerals are most important. You gotta keep them…"

He stopped dead. He was rambling again. She didn't come here to talk. Stupid.

"I'm sorry," he stated feeling embarrassed.

Seymour glanced at her for another moment before hanging his head. Somehow he had ruined it.

She shook her head. "Why are you sorry?"

He looked back up. She was smiling at him.

"Roses are beautiful," she stated, "and they sure are popular, but they aren't the best of flowers." She smiled. "But you know that."

She took several more steps toward him and the room grew much brighter.

"And when you find the right person, Seymour, it doesn't matter what type of flowers you are. Everything is green."

She smiled knowingly and Seymour wanted to ask her what she meant. He didn't want to seem any more awkward or embarrassing.

"Do you like working here, Seymour?"

He shrugged but at the same time nodded.

"I'm glad you do. It's safe and warm. I wish I had worked somewhere this green."

Seymour cocked his head confused. "Safe and warm? Green?"

She nodded.

"What does that mean?"

"It's what I wanted most for you."

This confused Seymour but he smiled nonetheless.

"Is Mr. Mushnik kind to you?"

"I suppose." He found himself opening up honestly before he could stop. "I just screw up bad sometimes. But I understand."

She shook her head. "Seymour, you are safe here. That's more to say then most of the places around Skid Row. It is kind of him to take you in, but everyone screws up. It has nothing to do with your character. Remember that."

Seymour was startled. How could she know? Why was she being so kind? She didn't know him, right?

"Are you buying flowers for anyone special?"

Her eyes trailed over to the floor then back up. Her expression hadn't lowered at all.

"Well no. I didn't have anyone special in my life, but I do know of someone I love."

Seymour cocked his head and smiled. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded. "Very much."

Seymour sighed dreamily before snapping back and remembering he had a job to do.

"Is there a flower I can help you find?"

She smirked. "I have plenty where I am from, but right now I would really love a pink carnation."

Pink carnation. Seymour moved over to the display case and opened it up. There weren't any grand bouquets with pink carnations. They were usually an afterthought flower used as a placeholder to be overshadowed. It took some time for him to find one, but one was stuck amongst a baby bouquet. Just one, and he plucked it out. It had been there awhile and was beginning to show it. Brown had begun to form around the edges and Seymour knew if he touched it with his fingertips it would crackle. Seymour glanced over at her. She didn't seem disappointed at all. In fact, she looked content and happy. Seymour was ashamed though. This couldn't be all he had to give her after being so kind to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She cocked her head and looked at him. "Why, Seymour?"

He motioned the single flower toward her. "It's dead."

Slowly she took several steps forward and ran her finger along the petal.

"Yes… it is. But you know what..."

As she spoke Seymour handed the carnation to her..

"Just because it's dead doesn't mean that it doesn't have love to give."

It may have been a trick of the light, or a fleck of dirt on his glasses, but he swore the flower began to bloom and shine

She smiled and extended the flower back to him.

"For me?" he asked.

She placed the flower in his hands. He smiled wide at it. No one had ever given him anything before.

"Th-thank you."

Without saying a word she placed both her hands on her heart. Seymour glanced back at the flower. He had a carnation as well, pressed and sealed in an envelope downstairs.

He heard her voice, so faint it was almost a whisper. "Of course, Sweetheart."

Seymour smiled and sighed.

"Who are you talking to, kid?"

Seymour turned over his shoulder. Mr. Mushnik stood in the doorway of the back office with a look of sheer confusion.

"I was…"

He turned back. She was gone. Glancing down at his hands the carnation was gone as well. He glanced wildly across the shop. Had she moved? Could someone move that fast? He hadn't heard the bell ring of her leaving.

"Are you alright, Krelborn? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Seymour's heart jumped in his throat as he finally understood who she was.

"Ma?!" he exclaimed.

Without thinking Seymour ran across the shop and out the front door. His head spun up and down the street. He couldn't find her. She was gone. He wanted to cry.

"Ma?" he whimpered.

A sudden breeze came and tickled his face. Seymour smiled through his tears.