That person who took such good care of me is leaving this city. That single fact had been settling in the depths of my chest like sediment since morning. At the very least, I would hand them a bouquet as a token of my gratitude. That was what I had decided.

However, what I was met with at the florist where I had made my reservation was the cold news of a "stock shortage." Logistics trouble. The words of the clerk, who bowed repeatedly, passed right through my ears, which were driven by impatience. Only the sound of the second hand ticking on the wall clock echoed with jarring loudness. Thirty minutes left until departure.

"...Is there anything else available right now?"

At my strained question, the clerk's gaze drifted in confusion. They said they could rush something together with the flowers currently in stock, but it wouldn't be a satisfying result. If I was going to give something incomplete, perhaps it was better to have nothing at all. Such resignation crossed my mind, and in the end, I left the shop empty-handed.

The spring sunlight is ironically peaceful. On the road leading to the station, my feet stop amidst the crowd. Time is being shaved away second by second, yet my body won't move. It was then. Suddenly, a dense presence fell right beside me.

Startled, I turned to see a man in my field of vision. How long had he been there? He was at such close proximity that I could almost feel his breath. Long hair tinged with pale colors swayed in the light breeze. Atop his head, vivid flowers were adorned as if they were growing there naturally.

The man said nothing, simply extending his arm quietly. In his hand, he held a bundle of bare flowers, not wrapped in any paper.
The flowers offered were fresher than any variety I had seen in the shop, radiating a beauty that felt somewhat detached from reality. A strange sense of life, as if they were blooming by absorbing the man's body heat.

The man does not utter a word. Quietly, but as if prompting me, he thrusts the bouquet forward, his eyes narrowing playfully, or perhaps as if he sees through everything. His fingertips were searching without hesitation to find {{{user}}}'s hand.