The flower shop was small and smelled like cut stems and cold water.

Sora arrived at seven to open up, her keys already in her hand as she walked down the quiet street toward the shuttered storefront.

The morning cold sat low over the city. Her breath fogged faintly in front of her.

There was a bunch of tulips sitting on the step outside the door.

She stopped.

Pink ones.

A few white mixed in between them.

The stems had been wrapped carefully in plain brown paper and tied with thin string.

There was no note attached. No name. No bag from another flower shop.

Just the tulips.

Left there quietly.

Sora stared at them for a few seconds before bending down and picking them up.

The paper was still cold from outside.

She unlocked the door and brought them in with her.

The little bell above the entrance gave its usual soft sound as she stepped inside.

The familiar smell of flowers and water settled around her immediately.

Clean, damp and comforting.

She placed the tulips in a vase on the front counter.

Then she stood there looking at them.

She loved tulips.

She had loved them since she was little.

Her father used to bring them home sometimes because she had once told him they looked cheerful even before they fully opened.

She had not said that to anyone else after he died.

She reached out and adjusted one of the stems carefully.

"Who sent you?" she murmured softly.

The shop stayed quiet around her.

Outside, someone rolled a bicycle down the street. A truck passed somewhere farther away.

Sora tied her apron on and started the morning work.

Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows.

Her father’s watch sat loose on her left wrist, too large for her, the scratched metal sliding toward her hand whenever she lifted a bucket or turned a stem to trim it properly.

The scratches crossed the face and the sides unevenly from years of wear.

She still remembered where some of them came from.

She had not taken the watch off since the funeral.

She did not think she ever would.

Morning light slowly spread across the front window while she worked.

She trimmed stems, changed water, wiped condensation from the refrigerator doors, and carried fresh flowers into the display buckets near the entrance.

Then she picked up sunflowers.

She had just started trimming the stems when the warmth came.

The front door was closed.

The windows were closed too.

Cold had settled over the city since dawn and none of the neighboring shops had opened anything yet.

But the warmth moved through the flower shop anyway.

It passed gently through her hair first.

Then across the back of her neck.

Then around her shoulders.

Her hands stopped moving.

The scissors remained lightly pressed against the stem.

The warmth stayed there.

Soft.

Steady.

Familiar enough that her chest tightened before she could stop it.

The sunflower trembled slightly in her hand.

It felt so close.

Not memory.

Not imagination.

Him.

The warmth rested around her shoulders with the same careful gentleness he had always used when he stood behind her, quiet and protective and trying not to startle her whenever she got too focused at anything.

The second hand on his watch ticked softly against her wrist.

Sora lowered her head slightly.

Her eyes stung almost immediately.

She blinked hard once and looked down at the sunflower stems in her hands.

A laugh threatened to come out first.

Instead she smiled.

Small.

Real.

"Good morning, Dad," she said quietly.

The warmth stayed a little longer after that.

Long enough for her shoulders to loosen.

Long enough for the tightness in her chest to ease.

Long enough for her to close her eyes once and simply stand there inside it.

Then it faded slowly, leaving the ordinary chill of the morning behind along with the smell of flowers, water, sunlight, and something warm that still seemed to linger in the air even after it was gone.

Sora stood there for another few seconds.

Then she opened her eyes and finished trimming the sunflower stems carefully, one by one, before placing them in the front window where the morning light reached best.

The tulips stayed on the counter beside the register.

Her father’s watch rested loose against her wrist.

Outside, the city continued waking up.

Inside, the flowers faced the light.

Sunflowers were her father’s favorite.

.

.

Knock knock knock.

"Kai~~~"

Kaito kept eating his breakfast.

The morning variety show on television had reached the part where all five hosts laughed at the same joke for too long.

One of them leaned halfway across the table wheezing while bright text bounced across the bottom of the screen.

Kaito took another bite of rice.

Knock knock knock.

"Kai. Let me in~~~"

He did not look up.

Outside, the knocking changed rhythm slightly.

"I promise I won’t touch you today. I will maintain proper distance." A pause. "I only want to sit near you. Maybe breathe the same air a little."

Knock knock knock Knock knock knock.

The knocking continued.

Kaito finally lifted his eyes from the television.

Shizuka stood outside the glass door with both palms pressed flat against it, her red eyes fixed directly on him through the glass.

Her silver hair hung loose around her shoulders, slightly messy from the wind outside.

She was dressed the way she always dressed since he started living in their aunt’s house, black crop top, short black jacket left open, black skirt, thigh-high stockings, boots.

The morning air was cold enough that his breath had fogged slightly earlier.

She appeared completely unaffected by it.

Knock.

She tapped the glass once with her knuckle.

Then pointed at the handle.

Then at him.

Then back at the handle again.

Her expression did not change during any of this.

Kaito looked at her for a moment.

Then at the television.

One of the hosts was now crying from laughter.

He reached over and slid the door open.

"Yay!"

Shizuka entered immediately.