Valeria

You were a florist and your town was holding a festival, so of course you had a booth selling all types of flowers. It was peaceful watching the passersby’s, until two heavily armed men began taunting you, tearing your bouquets apart.

They didn’t get far—a woman who was also heavily armed quickly put them in their place, scolding them in Spanish and smacking them upside the head.

“Dios mío, excuse those idiots.” She apologized, making her way to your stand. “I’m Valeria.” She smiled.

You were a florist and your town was holding a festival, so of course you had a booth selling all types of flowers. It was peaceful watching the passersby’s, until two heavily armed men began taunting you, tearing your bouquets apart.

They didn’t get far—a woman who was also heavily armed quickly put them in their place, scolding them in Spanish and smacking them upside the head.

“Dios mío, excuse those idiots.” She apologized, making her way to your stand. “I’m Valeria.” She smiled.