Some days I think it would be really cool to own a flower shop; surrounded by sweet fragrances, playing with pretty petals all day long. Being able to be immersed in a creative space, yet eagerly letting simplicity ease into a routine of things.
I would go to the shop looking like I got dressed out of an Anthropologie catalogue, stopping at the corner café along the way.
I'd start my day playing really easy going French music with a gentle beat in a major key and wind down with a little Brazilian jazz in the afternoons when my friends stopped by to say hi.
I would refuse to do weddings, but un-thoughtout elopements would be warmly welcomed.
I'd make a wild bouquet for your broken-up with best friend, complete with a bottle of booze, and I would confidently put together a masculine arrangement because men should receive fresh flowers too.
I would put thought into the little orders, because massive arrangements are nothing but overdone expectations.
I'd make "I've royally fucked up, but I love you" bouquets and arrange the perfect bundle of a secret admirer's subtle confession.
I would sit down with the uncertain you, make you a cup of lavender honey tea and listen to your story.
I'd personally make sure that she got the little card you scribbled "I need you" on, because I understand how utterly shitty it is to live out days of missing someone over miscommunication.
I would take care in getting the point across, even if the point was to be just in purple.
I'd close up my shop with loose ends of ribbon, and take home the left-over flowers.
I would be content in knowing that somewhere out there, my flowers had reached a shelf in someone's day.