Work Text:
It had been exactly three months since Ib’s visit to the art gallery. (She figured it was odd to remember something as dull as a trip to the art gallery so vividly, but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that it had been important.) The young girl was out shopping with her parents when she came across a florist’s; nothing spectacular, just a small flower shop, lined at the front with bunches of roses and other flowers. A splash of blue caught her eye and she leaned in closer.
A bouquet of blue roses.
Ib felt drawn to them. She felt a certain heaviness in her heart, though she didn’t quite understand why. All she knew was that these flowers were special. Important.
“Ib, are you crying?” The girl looked up from the flowers to see her mother crouching down beside her, looking worried. “What happened?”
Ib brought a hand to her cheek. She really was crying… but why? She shook her head and told her mother everything was alright, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. She stood up straight and looked back to the flowers.
“Hm? Ib, would you like to buy those?” The girl’s father asked. Ib didn’t need to think about it; she nodded. Her dad grabbed the bouquet and went inside to make the purchase. When he came back out, Ib snatched the flowers up and held them close to her heart.
Ib would make sure to never let his flowers wilt.