The florist didn't even look up from her shears when Elias stepped into the shop, the bell above the door chiming a lonely, metallic note. Outside, November was a bruised purple, the air smelling of wet asphalt and impending frost.
"No," he said, tucking a bright yellow bloom behind her ear. "The world was just running a bit late. I went ahead and started without it." buy daffodils out of season
"I can," Mara said. "But forced spring is expensive. And they won't last. They’re fragile when they’re born out of time. They’ll bloom bright for a day, maybe two, and then they’ll realize the world is cold and they’ll give up." "One day is enough," Elias replied. The florist didn't even look up from her
"I know the season," he said, clutching his coat collar. "But I need them today. For my wife. It’s her birthday, and she... she doesn't have until spring." "The world was just running a bit late
They were impossibly bright. Against the backdrop of the dark, rattling windows, the daffodils looked like fallen stars. Elias reached out, his finger trembling as he touched a petal. It was soft, cool, and carried the faint, peppery scent of a morning that hadn't happened yet. He bought every single one.
"They don't just grow on command," Mara said softly, but she wasn't dismissing him. She reached under the counter and pulled out a heavy, leather-bound ledger. "There’s a grower in a hothouse three towns over. He’s a fanatic. Keeps bulbs in a deep-freeze to trick them into thinking winter has passed, then wakes them up with artificial UV and timed misting." "Can you call him?"