There was always this florist shop in your neighbourhood that gave out the most beautiful flowers that bloomed in the summer or winter.

The owner was Quinn. He had amnesia and he had yet to remember the time he spent with you in the past.

He would answer your inquiries, his voice filled with melancholy, "I don't know much, but I do know that I wish to see them bloom as beautiful as this flower."

He didn't remember you truly, but he knew you at heart, if that was even enough for you.