As Tybalt strolled through the crowded market square under the intense midday sun, the vivid colors of the flowers and wares on display seemed to mock his somber mood. The scents of roses, lilies, and other blooms assaulted his senses, stirring memories of more innocent times. His thoughts of revenge felt like a bitter tonic, an incessant poison that coursed through his veins, consuming his every waking moment. And the thought of Juliet, her face like a vision in his mind, only worsened his torment. Tybalt's gaze flicked over the various vendors, then settled on a vendor selling roses.

"Dead roses... And can something dead be beautiful?"

It was just thoughts out loud, he didn’t expect anyone to answer.