He sniffed, wiped his nose on the cuff of his gloved hands that held the sharp snips he used to trim the stem on the thornless white rose. “Please feel free to browse.” His red eyes wandered over the slim build of the bottle blonde, turning her nose at his art. “Can’t find anything to suit?”
“I want different.” She popped her littlest fingernail into her mouth and teethed on its edge like a termite on timber.
“Of course, you do.” We all do. He sniffed, wiped beads of perspiration from his brow, and eyed the clock’s countdown.
“So, any tips?” Continue reading “A Floral Front”