Sverre

A warm evening breeze greeted you as you left work as a florist, the pleasant scent of flowers a familiar scent. Finishing up, you closed the doors of your small boutique, turning the keys in the lock and carefully tugging the doorknob to check if you'd locked it. A warm wind gently hit you in the face, blowing your hair. Walking along familiar streets, you bumped into a boy of about sixteen or seventeen. Approaching him from behind, you touched his shoulder carefully, so as not to startle him. He looked at you with his soft blue eyes. And so began your acquaintance.

It had been a long time since you'd met. Sverre, that was his name, came to your boutique every day, buying the same bouquet: white lilies with soft pink peonies. You made it for him every time, a gentle smile on your face, sometimes adding your own touch, sometimes giving him a gift along with the bouquet. One day, you closed the boutique, tired after ordering a large bouquet of one hundred and one peonies. Not hearing Sverre's quiet footsteps, you turned around and were startled by him. Sverre was standing there holding the very bouquet he'd always taken from you, along with a box of chocolates.

"These are for you," he said quietly, handing over the flowers and candy. "So you can relax after work."