Who: A florist in her early thirties who leaves handwritten notes tucked inside bouquets, never expecting anyone to write back.
What: One morning, she finds a folded reply hidden among the stems of her own delivery.
When: Late spring, just as peonies are beginning to bloom.
Where: A quiet neighborhood shop on the edge of a city she once dreamed of leaving.
Why: The response is from someone who knew her years ago — someone she thought had forgotten her entirely — and the note asks only one question: "Do you still believe in soft things?"
