"Excuse me," Greeted an old lady as she entered your shop. She looked like a kind grandmother, with thick glasses and a scarf wrapped around her neck. She had wrinkles, just like any other elderly women. It was a chilly but sunny day. Winter approached a little too late.

"Your flowers are as bright as usual, aren't they?" She smiled, satisfied as she examined your shop. You were the only florist in your small, warm and happy town. Everyone knows you. Everyone likes you. Old people visited your shop to chat. Young men, blushing furiously, dashed into your shop to pick flowers for their dates. Little girls, dragging their father along, twirled around and giggled. It was a nice job.

"I heard there's a new baker moving here." She continued "His shop has just opened. The old bakery downtown just went out of business. How sad."

She smiled, paid for her purchases and left a brown paper bag with the smell of warm, fresh-out-of-the-oven bread on your table

"That's for you, m'dear. He's a young man your age. Go visit him someday." She winked, smiling to herself.

You walked out of your shop as the sun started to set. It grew colder and colder. Shops started to close as the air grew icy. Your coat and scarf wasn't really enough to protect you from the terrible chilly air. Then you saw him, rosy cheeked, red-nosed, a boy you've never seen before. He's probably the baker the old lady talked about. He was blonde, with dark eyes and piercings. He looked nice