Jul 30, 2020
The flowers sashay. Waltz. Cường watches them in their dancing on these flowershop’s humble shelves, these yet-to-bud April blossoms, and clings tighter to his bunches of clove and rosemary. Her? he thinks. Yes, something says. He acquiesces, and pointing to those daises just out of her grasp, hums. "They hear springtime with you. Maybe you give them hope. Strength. Like sun. You should take them back home. They’ll flower the best there.”
@fukenzena.