Just like the day before, the sun shone in vain attempt to warm the street below, catching the breath of its occupants so that it glittered like snow. The weather was a little too chilly for my taste, so I had packed up my flowers and was keeping them safely inside - making my shop more crowded than it already was. Practically a maze of petals and smells, I wound my way through it as I sipped my red mug full of tea, occasionally tipping the old pewter watering can into a bucket that needed a top-up.
Sometimes I stumbled across a customer or two, and I asked them if they needed any assistance. A small blonde boy, perhaps in his early teens, dressed surprisingly smartly in a suit and tie, was frowning with great intensity when I came across him.
"Hello, there," I said brightly to the boy, setting down my watering can at my feet and crouching down beside him. "What are you looking for, then?"
"I don't know which one to get," he replied, his oddly high voice strained as though it were a matter of deep suffering. His eyes, big and brown, were fixedly flicking from left to right like the pendulum on a clock, looking from one pot in his hand to the other. Two tiny cacti plants, his hands so surprisingly small that they fit quite snugly in his palms, were the perpetrators of his distress; one that was tall and sparsely spiked, and one that was squat and spiny like a hedgehog.
"Hmm…" I intoned, assuming a frown as big as his. "Well, this is a bit of a pickle, isn't it?" He looked at me, seemingly very confused.
"They're not pickles, are they?" he asked, "I thought they were cactuses…?"
I laughed, and he seemed to realise my use of expression. He smiled, a little awkwardly, and his already cherried cheeks flushed like a pink rose.
"Which one do you like more?" I asked, and he didn't waste a second in answering.
"Oh, it's not for me - it's for my cousin. It's his birthday in a few days, and I've been wondering for ages what he might want. He loves flowers and stuff, but he's kind of a… well, I don't know how to say it, but I wanted something that would match his personality because he's really cool and edgy - I mean, not edgy-edgy, but yeah." Suddenly he looks almost sad. "He's really popular, as well. He always gets loads of gifts from loads of different people, and they're usually expensive, so I - I just really want something that he knows is from me... I mean, yeah, I could get him something really big and flashy, but that isn't him, y'know? That's why I want to get him something small and personal, because I know he doesn't like shallow things or shallow people. I want…"
He took a moment to consider the pots in his hands again, clearly still very undecided. He looked up at me again, an edge of hopeful shine in his eyes.
"I just want something that he wants."
"That's very thoughtful of you," I said softly, and he smiles. He proffers the two pots to me.
"Which one would you want?" he asked, surprising me a little. "You're the expert on flowers - so which one would you pick?"
"Well…" I frowned, looking from one to the other. I turned my gaze to the shelf on cacti beside us, and caught my eye on a tuft of pink near the back. "To be honest, I'd probably choose…" I bent forward and extended my arm to the very back of the shelf, closing my hand carefully around a slightly larger pot. I withdrew myself from the precarious ridge, seeing the confusion on the boy's round face. "This one."
"Ooh…" he cooed, almost in awe of the round, spiky plant that now perched between my hands. Almost a perfect sphere of green and yellow quills, it sported a bunch of bright magenta flowers at its top like a rather extravagant hat.
"Echinocereus Pulchellus," I smiled at him, seeing the evident excitement in his face. "It's like a cross between both of those two, isn't it?" He nodded, hastily replacing his previous choices back on the shelf - his quibble with them quite out the window now. "And it has these nice flowers on top - he likes flowers, right?" Another nod. "Little bit edgy, don't you think?"
"I love it," he replied instantly, and I smiled as I handed the dark red pot to him. He positively beamed. "He'll love it! Thank you, thank you!"
"Would you like me to gift wrap it for you?" I asked, straightening up and beginning to lead him away through the maze of vegetation to the main counter.
"Yes, please!"
Once there, he hands me back the pot and I scan the bar-code at its base with the usual loud beep of the machine.
"So when is your cousin's birthday?"
"In three days."
"The fifth, huh?" I sliced off a sheet of red tissue paper and carefully wrap the pot, creasing it in the way I had done many a time before to perfectly surround it and flare from the top. "Right in the middle of Spring. That must be nice." I pulled off a long strip of white ribbon from a reel beneath the counter and tied a bow to secure the paper. "I certainly hope the weather gets warmer for it." Picking it up carefully, I slotted it into a large brown paper bag and passed it across the counter to him. "Here you go."
"Thank you so much," he said, rummaging in his trouser pocket for his wallet.
"That'll be ¥950, please."
I hold out my hand, expecting to be given a handful of notes or coins. I'm surprised to find a credit card being pushed into my outstretched fingers. I flick my eyes over it and then at him, but decided it best to trust him - he didn't at all seem to be the sort to steal credit cards, in the very least.
"Did you borrow this from your dad?" I asked as I slid the card into the machine. He giggled, shaking his head.
"Oh, no - that's mine. I keep forgetting to get a new one, so thank you for reminding me." I pause as he types in his pin number, surveying him with confusion.
"How old are you, exactly?"
He looks up and smiles sheepishly.
"Don't worry, I get it a lot - I'm actually twenty-seven." I stared at him, and he laughed. "Leap year birthday," he added, as if this flawlessly explained the fact that he looked quite literally half his age. He loops one of those tiny hands through the handles of the bag and slides it off the countertop. "Thanks for everything."
"Have a nice day," I called feebly as he walked away, still highly confused as to his whole being.
After his departure my day was somewhat normal. I continued tending my plants and other customers, and closed up for lunch at half past one as usual. And, as usual, the moment I set foot outside I was instantly in tandem with my neighbour. Unusually, however, I didn't immediately see him overtaking me with his massive strides.
"Hey."
I looked round as I adjusted the bright red scarf around my neck, seeing him with one of those large hands raised in greeting. The other was in his jacket pocket. There was no sign of his sketchbook.
"Oh. Hey," I replied, and he seemed to take this as an invitation to approach me. I was surprised to find him engaging me in conversation without particular reason. "How are you today?"
"Can't complain. You?"
"Just a little hungry, really."
"Shall we?" He tilted his head in the direction of the coffee shop opposite.
"Sure."
We walked together across the road, and he held the door open for me when we reached the little café.
"Thanks," I smiled as I passed him, and the little bell tinkled as he entered after me. We bought our drinks and snacks as always, and as I went to sit at my normal table I tried to untie my scarf. It slipped from my shoulders to the floor, and I bent to pick it up. Before I could do so, it was already being proffered to me by my dark haired neighbour.
"Mind if I sit with you?" he asked as I took it back, and I set my Styrofoam cup down on the low table.
"Uh, yeah, sure, go ahead," I said quickly, and he inclined his head in thanks. We sat almost at the same time, and for a moment it seemed that neither of us were sure about how to go about talking.
"Thanks for what you said yesterday," he said at last, catching me by surprise as I took a sip of my latte. "It really made me happy."
"You're welcome," I responded, and his mouth twitched a little. He almost smiled, but then he put his cup to his lips. "I meant it though - you really are so much more talented than I would have expected. I haven't really seen much of your work before."
"Whereas I'm always seeing your work."
I frowned at him slightly, sitting a little more upright in my chair.
"It's nothing special," I assured him, turning my gaze to my fingers that fiddled with the scarf in my lap. "I wrap up flowers, and that's it. It's so simplistic that I don't even have to put in all that much effort. I mean, I enjoy it, sure, but it's nothing like what you do. It's not a talent…"
"You're wrong." I looked back up at him, taken aback. "You know… I've never seen anyone leave your shop without a smile. You make people happy, almost effortlessly. And that's a talent not many people have."