the rain patterns down around me

as i dash into the flower shop.

my black-and-white converse

squeak across the white-and black tiles.

the aroma of the rich soil, deep and warm, mixes pleasantly

with the wet pavement-rain scent hanging in the humid air.

sliding doors click shut behind me,

only a few feet ahead,

a boy is picking the wilted roses out of a bouquet.

his name-tag says taehyung.

his hair looks soft and brown.