Flowers. Flowers. She needed flowers. Something pretty, but not morbid. Morbid was too...overrated at a funeral. But colorful would be too lively? Geeze, she sucked at this. Funerals weren’t Millie’s thing, but she had promised her parents she would make an appearance. She just needed something to show her sympathy first. Of course the best place in town for flowers had been at Willow’s Flower Shop; the woman Millie swore she would never touch with a ten foot pole.
She had seen the woman’s judgey blue eyes staring her down from across the Walmart produce section as she flicked the watermelons and squeezed the peaches looking for the right purchase. At least Millie hadn’t been shoving her nasty ass, fake nail into the fruit to see if it was juicy, like most people did. But that was besides the point. Today was about her dead aunt, and she needed flowers.
“Okay, Millie...she’s not Satan’s mistress here to take your soul...she just sells flowers...” It was low enough not to be audible, but it didn’t help her nerves that Willow was nearby. Sucking up her pride, she slowly advanced on the woman and cleared her throat, “Ahem...hey there...Willow, right? Um, I’m looking for some flowers for a, uh, funeral...Just something nice. Not bright and flashy, like ‘oh my funeral flowers are better than your funeral flowers’ just...something to show that I care...” Was this awkward? Hell yeah! And would Millie treat herself to an ice cream after this for adulting, like, so hard? Can I get another hell yeah?!
