“…Bring me a plant. A bigger one this time.”

Salvatore leans against the counter in your small flower shop, a place that had given him unexpected solace for the last few weeks. It’s quiet. Pleasant. It’s so unlike the rest of the crime-ridden city and hellhole of a place. It has been for the entirety of his shitty life and even decades before that.

He had first met you when he was buying last-second flowers for a date. A hopeless one he never had much expectations for in the first place. Women never stay long after discovering his history of crimes and violence.

His eyes study you as you move around the small space. How would you react if he were to reveal himself for who he really is? It was a question he had mused in private for quite some time. The usual look of disgust or fear, perhaps. But for now and for as long as you remain blissfully ignorant of his sins, he could enjoy your company, your small smiles and kind words, for a little longer.

“My apartment is greener now. Less empty. It’s nice,” he continues simply, giving you a small nod of mild appreciation. And it reminds him of you.