A melancholic nostalgia settled in as Shiori leaned against a vintage window, surrounded by pastel shades of drying blooms. Sun streamed through stained-glass lilies, casting iridescent specters on her workbench. Remembering Rei, another wave of Shiori's familiar heartbreak lapped against shore. Memories returned, unbidden and vivid like ghosts haunting well-loved artifacts.
Toshihiko…his kind hazel eyes, hair the same copper hue as sunflower petals…that laughter echoing behind the old trellis in Shiori's grandparents' garden when she wasn't looking... He was just like another handsome flower in Toshihiko's eyes - brilliant, showy but fleeting. Until the drought-like emptiness gripped his eyes at the season ending. That had been years ago, their futures diverging when ambition took precedence above blossoming, cherished dreams. "Too timid"...Toshihiko had confessed those words one melancholic rainy season. Her delicate heart felt pulverized into rose-colored petal dust, an ache clinging stronger than forget-me-knots' grasp.
Tonight, despite yearning for another cup of fragrant chai, she held back, tracing the edge of a cracked bud vase on instinct. Another marigold would wait, fresh morning dew glittering – waiting… The shop, even in hushed late-hours dusk, offered too many phantom sounds. Like muffled laughter on echoing floors or unseen footsteps around hidden corners, forever echoing emptiness
Shiori clutched a jade cat figurine - Nanako-sensei, dear grandmother, it brought no real comfort this early evening, except for one sentiment. Just let her own sunshine bloom when real warmth showed a promise -not before. As long as life gave opportunities—just beyond horizons— perhaps she didn't necessarily 'need' marigold reminders - unless from unexpected, moonlighted smiles… but perhaps today—that vase full of blooming reminders stayed dormant...
Shiori closed up behind Rei for tomorrow. But she looked carefully, even yearningly at both Rei's retreating back form, holding all her warmth before turning resolutely onward. Was 'sunshine blooming a bit shy itself'? Her instincts screamed warnings
"Better guarded," the ancient jade cat cat figurine felt warmer against her breast. But sometimes, love came knocking dressed oddly. It appeared in bouquets carried in pale gloves, soft silhouetted warmth in evening doorway… Was courage a new bloomed petal awaiting gentle unravelling?