The author groaned. He didn’t feel like working on his draft and he certainly didn’t want to apologize to his sister first. If she hadn’t gone out of her way to find him a girlfriend, he wouldn’t have argued with her in the first place!

“… ugh!” he flailed around his couch, knowing deep within his heart that he was fully at fault here. 

The author laid there silently, listening to the bustling traffic and the small chirps of the sparrows outside. What should he do now? He was bored out of his mind, but he couldn’t ask Eddie to hang out since his best friend was at work. Yohan huffed, heaving himself up from his sofa and stood up. If he didn’t have anything to do, he might as well pay a visit to his favorite person in the entire world!

Shuffling up the stairs, Yohan got ready to go outside, changing into a pair of jeans, a white crewneck t-shirt, and a light, black bomber jacket. Checking out his reflection, he nodded before he looked around his workstation for a piece of stationary paper. Sitting down on his desk, Yohan scribbled a quick letter, a small sad smile on his face as he folded the paper into thirds. Shoving it into his jeans’ pocket, he grabbed a baseball cap on his way out of his bedroom before bouncing down the stairs. Grabbing his wallet, phone, and car keys, the novelist left his home and got into his car. 

It had been ages since he last drove, and he wasn’t confident that he'd be fine on the road on his own. He sat in the driver’s seat, contemplating if he should call an Oober, but decided against it as he pushed on the engine button, revving his car to life. 

With a deep, shaky breath, he pulled down the emergency brakes and shifted his gear to reverse as he slowly pulled out of his driveway and began driving onto the busy streets of LA. Despite his initial fear of crashing into other cars, Yohan’s muscle memory quickly kicked in, allowing him to drive with ease, albeit a bit concerned for other drivers’ safety.

Within minutes, he arrived at the florist shop as he parked his car and exited out of his vehicle, making sure to have his baseball cap on. He knew no one would recognize him, but still… Yohan wanted to make sure he didn’t have to deal with any uncomfortable small talk, in the event someone did recognize the author. 

The door chimed as he entered the quaint shop filled to the brim with fragrant flowers. Glancing around, Yohan looked for an employee, when someone suddenly welcomed him from behind. Startled, he looked behind him and was met with a burly, but fit man in a pink apron that was obviously too small on him. His light brown hair hung loosely around his tan shoulders, his muscles bulging out from his tank top as he smiled at the writer.

Yohan tried not to show his surprise as he mumbled a small hello.

“How can I help you, today? Are you looking for anything in particular?” he asked in a boisterous and jovial tone.

“Uh… I want to have a bouquet made for my mom… Do you have any pink tulips? And some white chrysanthemum flowers?”

“We have them both! But white chrysanthemums? Why not some white roses? It’ll look prettier!” the man suggested with a wide grin.

“Er… I would prefer the chrysanthemums please. I would like a dozen tulips and three chrysanthemum flowers in the middle…” Yohan requested, feeling a bit awkward.

“Okay, sure! Do you have any preferences for how I should wrap it up?”

“No, I don’t actually…”

“No problem, it’ll be ready in just a few minutes. Come on over and wait right here. Can I get you anything to drink or…?” the florist asked, his jade-green eyes peering over at Yohan. 

“Uh, no thank you, I’m good.” he replied, sitting on one of the wooden stools near the florist’s workstation. 

The burly florist smiled before going to the back to fetch the flowers. Yohan sighed, already feeling drained from the two-minute social interaction he’s had. At least the florist didn’t seem to know who he was—which was a great relief. A few seconds later, the man reemerged, carrying the flowers gently in his large hands. He set them down near Yohan, as he began to work on the bouquet.

Yohan glanced over at the man’s quick hands, wondering how someone so… ‘macho’ was able to work with the flowers delicately. He knew he was being biased, but it was still fascinating to watch. 

The green-eyed man glanced at Yohan who was still busy watching him work. The florist slightly grinned as he finished tying the ribbon. Yohan looked up and smiled at the man, thanking him as he pulled out his credit card. The florist smiled back as he rang up the young man before him.

“That’ll be $30. Also…” the man looked at Yohan with curious eyes, “are you perhaps Yohan Yoo?”

“Uh… Well…”

“Sorry, no pressure. I just wanted to say that I’m a fan of your novels… And I’m really glad that you’re back with a new project! I’m looking forward to it! I don’t know if that puts more pressure on you though…” he said sheepishly with a bright smile on his face.

Stunned, all Yohan was able to do was nod. He didn’t expect this man to be reading his books as most of the genres were either slice of life or romance-fiction. Yohan smiled, briefly thanking the man as he picked up the bouquet of flowers and exited the shop. The florist grinned as he watched his favorite author leave the premises. As soon as Yohan was gone, the florist clapped his hands and squealed as he fanboyed. He had met his favorite author!!!

~~~

With the lovely bouquet on the passenger seat, Yohan made his way up to Santa Monica, where his mother rested. Parking his car at the parking lot of the cemetery, Yohan got out of his car with the bouquet in hand, slowly strolling on the quiet, tranquil, and tidy grounds. The trees shimmered as the bright sunlight hit them, making them sparkle in the afternoon sun. 

He smiled as he hiked up the small hill that opened up to a large field full of various trees in the distance. Following the small pathway, he came to a complete stop in front of a Carolina silverbell tree. It wasn’t flowering, as it was only September, but the yellow leaves made him feel at peace. Yohan smiled as he looked at the small, wooden placard that had his mother’s name etched onto it.

“Hey eomma, I’m here. Brought your favorite flowers. Didn’t want to bring the chrysanthemums but… Anyways, here you go.” Yohan said, placing the bouquet next to the tree. 

Reaching into his jacket, he took out the letter he had scribbled earlier. With a sigh, he pinned it onto the placard, feeling a little embarrassed. Even though he was a writer, he still felt awkward and shy about writing to his mother.

“Ahem. I’m not going to read what I wrote to you; you can read it when you get bored, I guess.” Yohan muttered as he sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree.

The novelist didn’t know how long he was there for when he noticed his sister making her way up the hill. They made eye contact as Yohan grumbled to himself. What was she doing here, instead of being at work? Getting up from the grass, he came face-to-face with his older sister who also had a bouquet of pink tulips.

May didn’t say a word to him as she placed the bouquet on the other side of the tree. She stayed quiet as she paid her respects to her mother while Yohan awkwardly stood next to her. A few moments later, May turned to glance at her baby brother who was digging his shoe into the grass. She sighed, rolling her eyes before smacking his back to grab his attention. If she could, she wanted to beat him up. 

“So, wanna talk about it?”

**NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**