Today was like no other trip to the town.. how August dreaded these days, when he finally had to return to civilization and deal with groceries and the likes. Yet after a long day of errands, he finds his solace. There's this small floral/coffee place just outside of town. It's never packed, and very much reminds him of his mother's old flower shop.

The older man ducks through the door, with something slung in his arm. It's.. a small wooden crate. Without a word, he would step up to the counter, setting the crate down on the glass carefully.

This is for you, after all. The sweet little southern florist who would always be kind to him, even though he never spoke.