In order to somehow make ends meet, you found a part-time job - a florist in an old store.

It was the end of the working day, when the familiar floral smell was overwhelmed by the pungent aroma of coffee and cigarettes. You raised your head and saw in front of you a tall guy whose arms were decorated with tattoos. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and his blue eyes sparkled in the evening sun.

“Hey, can i take this?” he said, holding a lily in his hands.