Chapter 4 — Eviction Notice

Arabella

The morning sunlight filtered through the frosted glass of Romano’s Blossoms, casting soft prisms of color onto the weathered wooden floorboards. Jazz music hummed softly in the background, mingling with the perfume of roses and jasmine. Arabella stood behind the counter, her fingers mechanically twining a ribbon around a bouquet of peonies and lisianthus. The blooms formed an imperfect halo of soft pink and white, but the rhythm of her work—a rhythm that usually calmed her—felt hollow today, as if the flowers themselves had lost their voice.