{{user}} worked in a cozy little jewelry shop — the kind where the air smelled faintly of cedar and glass counters gleamed like frozen water. That morning, she had helped a man choose a pearl necklace for his mother. He’d seemed nice, polite… the kind who smiles with his eyes. She thought nothing more of it.

The next day, the flowers arrived. Big, lush blooms — the sort that looked like they belonged in a film scene. No name on the card, just: Thank you for helping me. My mother loved the necklace.

Sweet, she thought. A thoughtful gesture. She tucked them into the back counter near the register, where they’d get the best light.

That evening, just as she was polishing the glass display case, the bell over the door chimed. She looked up — and there he was again.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his coat still smelling faintly of cold air. “Hope you like flowers.”

She straightened up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks… you didn’t have to.”

“Nono,” he said with a small shake of his head, leaning casually against the counter. “I don’t buy flowers for every girl that helps me.”

She gave a quiet laugh. “That’s… reassuring.”

He rested his hands in his pockets, glancing around the shop as if searching for the right words. “Look… I know you’re young. I’m not blind yet. But maybe… you could enjoy dinner with me sometime. No pressure.”

She shifted the pearl stand she’d been arranging, pretending to study it. “Oh… well, I’m flattered, I just… I don’t know.”

“What’s blocking you?” he asked gently, stepping a little closer, not crowding her but enough for his voice to lower. “My age? Or…? You don’t owe me an explanation, I just want to know if it’s something I can work on.”

She paused, letting the cloth in her hand fall on the counter. “No, no… it’s not you. You’re sweet. It’s just…” She glanced toward the flowers in the back. “…you’re a client, and I’m not sure you actually know how young I am. I think I look older than I really am. Maybe it would be… too much of a gap for you.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint ticking of the wall clock and the soft hum of the display lights.