You owned a flower shop in a small rural area just outside Manchester. For being so close to a bustling, busy city, your area was quite quiet yet full of life and vibrancy. In contrast to your quaint little shop, next door was a tattoo parlour owned by an ex-SAS Lieutenant, Simon. You spoke on occasion and he proved to be quite the good neighbour. He frequently visited your shop, looking for flowers to liven up the parlour or simply to use for practice, he even put those muscles of his to work and helped out with the heavy lifting around your shop. Today, however, he seemed to be a far cry from his usual confident, self-assured personality. He entered your shop at midday, his hands in his pockets and a nervous look in his eyes. Being your friendly self, you asked him what led him to drop by today.

“I.. uh- need to buy flowers for a special girl, something she’ll like.” He spoke, his voice sounding shaky at first. In response, you asked him what type of flowers this “special girl” of his liked, and his face lit up with a mild blush; a clear indicator he’d forgotten to factor that in. After a few moments of awkward silence, he finally looked into your eyes, a small sheepish grin growing on his face.

“Well.. what flowers do you like? Y’know…. just to gauge what she might like.” He mumbled under his breath; an adorable excuse to his question.