It was a summer evening when it happened.
The streets were thinning as the sun began to dip under an ocean of clay tiles, obscured by streams of black dust. People retired from their activities and disappeared into their bricked havens. The ground rumbled as a streetcar rolled by. In its passing, the echoes of trotting horses and idle chatter resumed their possession of the streets.
I stepped outside and began to move inventory, from the shade of their canvas awning to the musty indoor shade. The racks were carefully arranged into tidy bundles behind the shop window, still in clear display to passersby. I took care to leave the freshly picked flowers by the pane.
A few citizens drifted still, presumably on their way back home, or, perhaps, on an evening stroll. Most were familiar faces I saw everyday—people of the working class, who worked the mills and the factories, identified by their relatively simple or dirtied attire. Once in a while, men of business would visit these streets. It was a rare occasion, since they hardly ever stepped outside their inner sanctum, but every once in a while, I would see these kinds of people walk by my shop, situated relatively deep within the town. That evening was one of those exceptions.
This man of business greeted me before I was aware of his presence. “Good evening, madam,” his voice chimed. I turned around and responded in kind, modestly smiling as I always did. He tipped his hat upon this gesture. I did not recognise the visitor, but nevertheless gave him my full attention. His stature was immediately discernible from his suit and top hat. He wore a dark brown vest and a black frock coat, despite the warm weather. A golden chain dangled from one button into his vest pocket. A pocket watch, if I had to guess.
“Business finds you well today?” he inquired with a stern smile and perfect articulation, one with similar resemblance to my father’s. The stranger was perhaps in his forties, with signs of gray in his whiskers.
“It was fair. Pleasantly warm today.”
The man raised his eyebrows harmoniously. “Ah! I must admit I am delightedly surprised. It’s not every day that one comes across a proper lady in these streets.”
“I am honoured to hear that, sir,” I politely replied, but did not say much else. It was not customary to comment on such matters.
“The pleasure is mine,” said the man, tipping his hat once again.
Despite his civility, something felt out of place with the man. I observed him as we stood in awkward silence. His posture was fairly straight—perhaps too straight. His arms poised stiffly by his sides, with his hands neatly tucked into his coat pockets. Every gesture he made was crisp and snappy; his shoulders and elbows bouncing when he returned his hand into his pocket. He had pale skin and wrinkles under his eyes. Noticing this made him look much older.
After some time, he nodded and turned towards the flowers. Perhaps he expected me to continue.
“Quite an assembly you have.” The man hunched over the remaining vases.
I gently laughed. “Thank you. They’re from the woods just outside of town.”
“Is that so? Who sold you them?”
“I collected them myself,” I declared.
He looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Do you go by yourself?”
“Yes. The ideal spots to pick are not very far from my house.”
The stranger straightened himself. “Why, that’s certainly brave of you—a young lady such as yourself—to venture out there, despite the rumours that have been circulating.”
I shrugged off the comment as nothing unusual. “It is second nature to me. I grew up in the forest, and they never bothered a sou—”
“Ohhh, things could very well change soon,” the man interjected, his voice tensing as if I spoke the devil’s name. The smile gradually left my face as he continued. “It would be best to watch out for your own sake.” The man paused, quickly glancing around the streets before leaning forward, a little too close for comfort.
“The spirits.”
His voice was now a whisper. I felt a chill course through me, startled by his grim demeanour. The stranger paused, seemingly deliberate this time, for what felt like a lofty stretch of time before resuming. “They may change their mind about letting you live amongst them.”
Unnerved by his accusation, I grasped my hands tightly behind me and stood my ground as he ever so slightly leaned further. He did not speak another word. Rather, he waited for my response. Long enough to pick out the individual hairs in his mustache. Eventually, I managed a timid smile and submitted. “I will take heed to that advice.”
Upon my answer, the stranger’s expression suddenly lightened. “Very well.” Straightening once more, he continued to stare down upon me for a few moments before turning to motion at a tray of light blue flowers. “If I may, I would like to purchase a flower before you close up.” Smiling excessively, he added, “For my wife.”
“Ah…” I fumbled. “Of course!”