𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓪

I met Owen at the flower shop that morning - more so, he showed up unexpectedly.

"Hey, how's it goin?" He walked in, smiled, glancing at the array of flowers and then meeting my eyes.

I looked back, barely seeing Marley around the corner as she swept up her stem clippings.

I nodded, "good," I lied.

"Hm," he leaned in. "I'm not sure I believe you."

A wave of guilt washed over me. I looked at him briefly, noting the warm look in his eyes.

I began slowly, "a friend of mine... passed away." I looked at him as his lips turned downward into a frown.

Died. Saying the word felt wrong, foreign, too real. I still couldn't wrap my head around it.

"I'm so sorry," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder, flinching instinctively. "That must be really tough."

I stepped back, letting his hand slide away. I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes on the ground.

"My mom died when I was ten," he said, looking at me. There was no emotion on his face. "Suicide, actually. She jumped off a bridge."

I swallowed, my brows furrowed, and looked at him, sympathizing with him. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, "it was rough, definitely. I went through some depression for a few years. It still hits me now and then."

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

"Anyway," he straightened, running a hand through his hair, "when do you take your break? I know a great place around the corner."

My eyes widened. "Oh. I - I um... one, I think."

He laughed, my face growing a bright red.

"So, is that your way of saying yes?" He leaned in again, invading my space.

I looked up at him, releasing a shaky breath. "I... I suppose... Yes."

He smiled, leaned back, "great."