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They made it three steps out of the grocery store before the weight of the bags started to sink into everyone’s hands.
Pomni shifted her grip, trying not to let a carton of eggs wobble out of place, when she noticed Ragatha slowing at the edge of the group.
A plant stall sat wedged between a bakery and a magazine rack, the whole table crowded with succulents and starter herbs.
Ragatha’s gaze lingered there a little too long.
Pomni nudged her with an elbow. “You wanna check it out?”
Ragatha flinched like she’d been caught doing something embarrassing. “Oh—no, no, it’s fine! We should keep moving and get these home, everyone’s tired afterall...”
Kinger, who had been marching along like the bags weighed nothing stopped in his tracks. “Nonsense! Plants are excellent company, I wouldn’t mind a look myself.”
Jax immediately groaned loud enough for pedestrians to turn their heads. “Can we not? I’m already carrying half the store.”
Gangle perked up. “It might be fun…! Plants are nice.”
Ragatha hesitated, eyes bouncing between them, clearly torn between her interest and her worry about being an inconvenience.
Pomni didn’t let her overthink it. She tugged the corner of Ragatha’s bag and steered her toward the stall.
“Look,” Pomni smiled “You like plants, Kinger likes plants, everyone else is surviving. Just go.”
Ragatha finally allowed herself a small smile. She set her grocery bags down beside the table and leaned in.
The shopkeeper noticed them before anyone spoke, an older woman with soft gray curls and gardening gloves that looked permanently stained with soil.
When Kinger leaned over the array of flowers, she lifted her head and gave him a warm, knowing smile.
“Looking for something particular, dear?” Her voice had the calm confidence of someone who had been doing this for decades.
Kinger straightened a little. “Ah yes, actually! Something low maintenance. Very low. Something practically indestructible would be ideal.”
The old woman chuckled. “Then I know exactly what you need.”
She shuffled to a shelf behind her table, reached between two drooping ferns, and pulled out a small pot with a sturdy green plant.
“This one,” she set it in Kinger’s hands, “survives even in college dormitories.”
Kinger lit up. “Perfect! Truly perfect.”
Pomni watched him cradle the plant like it was a fragile treasure, even though the thing looked like it could survive a house fire.
Kinger patted his pockets. “Hmm. Wallet, wallet… yes, here we are.”
He pulled out a worn, overstuffed billfold and flipped it open. Inside were cash, receipts, and what looked suspiciously like a movie ticket from far too long ago.
He squinted down at the bills. “Pomni, kiddo, remind me, what color was the thirty-dollar bill again?”
Pomni sighed. “There is no thirty-dollar bill.”
Kinger blinked. “There isn’t?”
“Nope, here let me..." She plucked the wallet gently from his hands. “You have a twenty, a five, and another five. That’s thirty.”
Kinger nodded, relieved. “Excellent! You would make a fine accountant, Pomni.”
"Kinger, I am an accountant.
The old woman accepted the money with a gracious nod, already wrapping the pot in paper.
Pomni handed the wallet back and nudged Kinger toward the others. “You’re all set.”
He looked down at the little plant, beaming in that earnestly in the way only he could manage.
Zooble drifted along the table, scanning each pot until something stopped them.
Tucked near the end of the stall was a plant that looked… eccentric.
Its leaves grew in uneven angles. The pot was mismatched and hand-painted with crooked shapes. A single stem curved in a defiant little arc as if it had declared war on symmetry.
The shopkeeper noticed Zooble staring and immediately brightened. “Ah, finally, someone interested in that one! Poor thing’s been here ages. Nobody so much as glances at it.”
Zooble crouched, hands on their knees, studying the plant with a growing smile. “Huh. Look at you.”
Jax leaned over their shoulder. “Of course you’d like that one. Looks like it was made from scraps.”
Zooble didn’t even bother looking at him. One palm went straight to Jax’s face, pushing him backward.
Jax sputtered, arms flailing slightly, mostly offended that he was being manhandled rather than actually losing balance.
Zooble focused back on the plant. “Ignore him,” they murmured. “He’s allergic to anything with personality.”
Jax, muffled behind Zooble’s hand, “I heard that.”
“Good.” Zooble said, removing their hand without ceremony.
The shopkeeper watched with something close to relief, maybe even affection. It was clear she had hoped someone would come around.
Zooble’s grin deepened. “C’mon, buddy,” they said under their breath, adjusting the pot so the strange little stem leaned into their palm. “Let’s be strange together.”
Pomni was still watching Zooble bond with their strange little plant when Ragatha walked towards her, holding a small bouquet wrapped in thin paper.
Soft blues, gentle pinks, and pale yellows, small flowers were clustered together in the boquet.
“Here,” Ragatha said, offering them out. “These made me think of you.”
Pomni blinked. “Me? Why?”
Ragatha tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy. “I’m not sure. Something about them… they’re small, but they stand out. Like you!"
Pomni felt her face warm, but she didn’t retreat from it. She took the bouquet carefully, fingers brushing Ragatha’s.
“They’re forget-me-nots, right?”
“Mostly,” Ragatha said. “With some extras mixed in so they don’t get lonely."
Pomni smiled at that. Ragatha always framed things in a way that made the world feel gentler.
Predictably, Jax wandered over at the wrong moment, eyeing the bouquet with a smirk.
“Aw, how fitting. Forget-me-nots for Pomni. Because she’s so tiny you might forget she’s even there.”
Pomni didn’t miss a beat. “Careful talking down to me from up there, you beanstalk. Ypur personality must get cold at that altitude.”
Jax staggered back dramatically, hand pressed to his chest like he’d just been mortally wounded.
“Wow. Verbally assaulted in public, by a garden gnome!”
Pomni shrugged. “Should’ve thought about that before you opened your mouth.”
Gangle, trying very hard not to pick sides, said softly, “She… does have a point though, Jax…”
Jax glared at her without any real heat. "Ha, as if you're any taller, Stringbeans!"
Gabgle gasped "Stringbeans?!"
Pomni smiled and lifted the bouquet to her nose, hiding her grin behind the petals.
Zooble hadn’t planned on getting anything else until they saw it.
Roses.
For a split second, Zooble thought of Gangle’s ribbons, those soft, fluttery strips that stayed perfect even when she didn’t.
So, before they could overthink it, they bought the bouquet. And now, here they were, standing in front of Gangle.
“I, uh… got these for you,” Zooble said, thrusting the flowers out like a malfunctioning vending machine.
“They reminded me of your ribbons. And you never get yourself stuff, so… yeah. You should have something.”
Gangle froze, then, very slowly, she took the bouquet with trembling hands.
“For… me?” she squeaked, voice wobbly but warm. “Zooble, that’s… that’s really sweet, actually... I well—thank you!"
It hit Zooble in the chest harder than expected.
“Yeah, well...” Zooble muttered, rubbing the back of their neck with a too-casual shrug.
That was when Gangle finally noticed the odd little plant tucked under Zooble’s other arm, something spiky, twisty, and vaguely threatening.
“Oh! Yours looks really cool!” Gangle blurted. “It’s so unique! It’s got your whole vibe.”
“My… vibe?” they repeated, a little too quickly.
“Yeah! Like… chaos, but in a good way!”
Zooble stared at her. The plant stared too, probably judging them both. And then, without warning, Zooble’s face heated up.
Before the moment could get any softer, a loud, dramatic gagging sound cut through the air.
“Wowww.” Jax drawled, leaning against a crate with the laziest smirk imaginable. “How wholesome, I’m touched. Deeply. So deeply in fact, I might hurl.”
He pretended to vomit into his hands. Loudly.
Gangle squeaked in alarm.
“Can you not?” Zooble snapped.
Jax dodged easily. “Don't mind me, I'll be over here dry heaving."
Zooble flipped him off and Gangle giggled.
As Jax walked off he spotted it
He doesn’t even touch the cactus at first. He just squints at it like it personally offended him.
Zooble strolls past, spots the scene, and immediately pounces.
“Yeah, that makes sense.” they say, flicking one of the spines. “It's prickly, boring, and hard to be around. Its practically your soulmate.”
Jax snaps his head toward them. “Please. I’ve got more personality than the rest of you combined. You just wouldn’t recognize charisma if it bit you.”
Then Kinger pops up from behind another pot like some sort of gardening cryptid.
“Oh! That one really does suit you, actually!”
Jax wheels on him too. “Okay, what is this, Pick-On-Jax Day? Did you all form a club?”
But while he’s grumbling, everyone else is wandering off with their new plants.
Zooble’s weird geometric thing, Gangle’s ribbon-colored roses, Kinger chatting with Pomni happily who was carrying her boquet like a newborn.
Jax glances at the cactus again. It just sits there, judgy and silent. Frankly, he respects that.
“…Fine.” he mutters.
He picks the pot up like it’s a secret he’s trying to smuggle, marches over to the little old lady running the stall, and drops his voice so low it barely exists.
“How much is this thing?”
She gives him a knowing little smile. Jax pretends not to notice.
Behind him, Pomni slows her step. She sees him hunching over the cactus like he’s negotiating a hostage deal and can’t help smiling before she turns away so he doesn’t catch her.
He doesn’t, he’s too busy acting like buying a cactus is some high-stakes covert operation.
They spill out of the market with bags, plants, and questionable purchases everywhere.
The sun’s dipping a little lower as they all shuffle back toward home with various degrees of enthusiasm.
“Great,” he groans, hoisting his grocery bag higher.
“We came here for groceries and somehow everyone walked out with a gardeninh side quest. Reeeeeeaaally needed my load to be heavier!"
Zooble doesn’t even look at him. “You’re just weak.”
Jax barks a laugh. “Right, because you hauling that abstract nightmare of a plant is a show of strength.”
“It’s heavier than your spine.” Zooble shoots back.
“Bold of you to assume I have one.”
That earns him a snort from Pomni.
Ragatha, trying to keep the group’s vibes from disintegrating completely, pipes up with a chipper, “Come on, Jax, it’s not that bad!”
Jax immediately zeros in. “Oh, sorry, am I ruining the wholesome plant pilgrimage? Tragic, someone write about it in her diary.”
Ragatha glares. “Jax! I don't have a diary! It's a journal!"
"Awww, Raggy has a wittle pwincess diawy!"
"Can't you just stay quiet?!”
“I could,” he says. “But then what would you do on your walk home? Reflect silently? Terrifying.”
By the time they reach the block where the path splits toward home, the bickering has settled into background noise.
The plants sway a little in their arms as they step onto familiar ground. Someone mentions something about dinner, someone else complains about being tired, and the whole day evens out.