The rest of the day seemed to go by in a blur after the man with the sorrowful eyes had left. Angela said goodbye for the day and I dutifully counted out the cash and scratched down the numbers in my notepad. I bit the end of the pencil. Something was gnawing at me in the back of my mind. I frowned, absentmindedly turning off the lights and locking the store for the afternoon. I noticed it was still light out but the sun was setting, causing rays of orange to gleam through the clouds which were now a shade of pink. I smiled at the sight, walking out back to my trailer. Since the house burned down, I had decided to live with the bare minimum and opted for a trailer instead of an apartment. It was better to save as much as possible and to deposit most of the money earned from the shop into a savings account. I hoped to use the funds to convert the plot of land that used to be my home into a memorial of sorts. I wanted to turn something tragic into something beautiful.

I had parked behind the store for convenience and I quickly made my way over when I suddenly shivered, feeling as if someone was watching me. My eyes flickered around the area but I saw no one. I fumbled with my keys before opening and locking the door behind me before I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I then collapsed on the tiny couch I had called my bed for the past few weeks. It wasn't comfortable but at least I had somewhere relatively safe to sleep. I observed my little home from my position and I was saddened. It was small and relatively empty of any possessions. I only had a few clothes and books but other than that, I had nothing.

I covered my face with my arm, trying to turn away from the thoughts that threatened to consume me and instead focused on to the stranger from earlier. I was completely fascinated by him. He was strange and unnaturally handsome yet, he looked like he was barely living. What happened to him? Why was he so sad? My heart skipped a beat as I remembered how cold his fingers were and how deathly pale he was. Was he sick? Why had he been so cold? As I mused about him, I jolted up at a thought.

He had known about my Adonis flower and what it signified. I had chosen that flower specifically because I knew that in the past, flowers and plants could be used to convey feelings and messages. Did he also know all about that? I felt my brow furrow as I rummaged through a few books I had bought recently until I found what I was looking for. The book in my hands was simple with a brown cover and the title written in gold cursive: The Secret Language of Flowers.

I hesitated. Would it be wrong if I wanted to confirm my suspicions? I bit my lip at the thought. Maybe I was overthinking things and should just let it go… No. I wanted to know even if I was being a little nosy. I flipped the book open and scanned the index, running my finger down the page.

"Meadow Saffrons… Meadow Saffrons…"

That was that was the first flower he had approached. Maybe I could find a clue about him in the flowers he had seen in my shop. I paused as I found the number and I quickly located the page, finding a lovely pastel painting and a brief description below it.

Meadow Saffron

This six-petaled flower is of pinkish-purple color and is often referred to as 'Naked Lady' as it blooms late in the fall when it's leaves are already wilted. In Victorian times, the addition of Meadow Saffrons to a bouquet signified that the sender's best days had fled. Its use alludes to growing old or of better times.

Message - "My happiest days are past"

Growing old? No, I don't think that's it. He was no more than 35 if I was being generous. I concluded that it was most likely that he had somehow lost his happiness. Was he melancholic because he was remembering something from his past? I pursed my lips as I went back to the index. I tapped my finger over the page number for Verbenas. Should I continue? I sighed and against my better judgment, searched for the page.

Verbenas

These small flowers can be found clustered together and can come in a variety of colors. Meanings varied considerably and choosing the flowers with the correct hue was of great importance. Pink Verbenas signified family union, White Verbenas asked the recipient for prayers and Purple Verbenas signified that the sender shed tears for the recipient; it could also mean great regret.

Message - Pink Verbena: Family union, White Verbena: "Pray for me", Purple Verbena: "I weep for you"; regret

"I weep for you?" Had he lost someone he loved?

I snapped the book shut. If what I read was right, I had learned something very personal about that man. I shook my head. This was pure nonsense. For all I know, it could all be my imagination and maybe he just really liked those flowers in particular. I paused coming to a second realization. He was just a stranger. I probably wouldn't see him again so I had nothing to worry about. I tucked the book in a corner and drew the curtains. I readjusted myself and closed my eyes, trying to sleep. Still, something kept me awake. I kept thinking that I wanted to understand him even if I didn't even know him… The problem is, why did I care so much?

I eventually drifted into sleep and dreamt of him that night. He was sitting on the roots of a dead tree in a garden full of wilted plants with his back to me. He wore a black robe and his hair fell freely, spilling onto his shoulders. He was crying, speaking softly between sobs and I strained to hear him, walking forward and noticing that with each step I took, the garden started coming back to life. He turned to me now, his dark eyes pleading and full of despair.

"Isabella."

My eyes snapped open, my heart beating much too quickly. I looked around dazed before registering that I had woken up from a dream. I took deep breaths trying to calm down when I noticed that I was crying. I didn't understand why but in that moment, I felt compelled to help him and I wouldn't stop until I found him.

Author's notes: Thank you for all of your reviews, favs/follows! I appreciate all of them :)