The flower shopThe chime above the door tinkled as Crocus’ customer made their way into his shop. He swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly dry. He thought he would be used to this by now- as this was the only customer that ever visited the small flower shop- but he couldn’t help but feel unnerved.
The customer was completely silent, even the large black cloak it wore never rustled as it moved. They never spoke, they just walked the aisles, not stopping but occasionally pointing out a flower. Scurrying behind, Crocus would grab each flower that was chosen. Eventually, the cloaked figure made its way to the front counter, where Crocus would hastily assemble bouquets.
Once he had finished, the customer would reach inside a sleeve and extract a large sum of money. It would reach across the counter with a skeletal hand and drop it in front of Crocus’ paw. There was never a question of returning change, the transaction was ended. The customer’s deeply hooded face would turn towards him, give a slight nod, then gather the flowers and disappear into the alley behind the shop.
Crocus could finally breathe a sigh of relief as the door chimed closed. He never bothered to count the money anymore- it was always more than sufficient to carry him through until the next visit.
No one else ever entered the shop. It was hidden away in a back alley, and those who did manage to make it to the front into door would suddenly remember urgent matters they needed to handle. Crocus didn't mind.
Crocus needed all of the flowers. Every single one, as his customer would arrive sporadically and he couldn't afford to be unprepared. Luckily, flowers were his true passion, so he would spend hours roaming around the aisles, drinking in scents and admiring the rainbows of colours. Once in awhile he would practice making arrangements or smaller things like floral crowns. When he got very bored he would sometimes make a bed of blooms on the ground that he could roll around in.