The sunshine rays that filtered through the big windows warmed the place inside, but they couldn't compare to the warmth in the woman's chest caused by a new love. The flower shop had a spectacular scent all year round that she enjoyed every day and taking care of the flowers, though it was a constant and laborious work, was worth it if it meant keep being the favorite supplier for "her".
The florist had met her several years ago, when she became her favorite flower supplier for the events she organized as work, and after a series of talks, outings for coffee and dinners together, spring had finally come. Until that point, their relationship was nothing but friendship, but she couldn't take the step ahead she wanted. The florist only had her shop, how could she get close to someone like her, that directed a business, that was searched with months in anticipation for people to take charge of their events? The difference she felt between both was abysmal.
Like an omen of her future, that season the red roses weren't blooming. On the contrary, the yellow ones shined their petals like the Sun. She made an arrangement with them and added some yellow tulips and dondiegos. Even though the arrangement was beautiful, she didn't feel better. She sold it for barely thirty pesos.
Everything changed the day she found that shadow. It appeared suddenly in the middle of the flower shop's floor, like an illusion created by the mix in the lights from the Sun and the lamps in the shop. But when she touched it, when she took it between her fingers, she knew it was real. The shadow danced in the palm of her hand, unable to decide which shape to take. When she caressed it, the florist felt a peculiar vigor expanding trough all her body.
She felt more awake, stronger, and more cheerful, like a flower that stands up with water dew after a hot summer day. Just as she was thinking that, from her hand sprouted a flower. She got scared at first, but curiosity and fascination were stronger than fear. With her other hand, she pulled the plant and looked at it carefully. It exceeded the delicacy and symmetry of the ones she had in her shop. She'd never seen one more beautiful and shinning than that one, and when she ventured turning off the lights, she discovered it was actually producing light.
She created more flowers from her hand: orange blossoms, marigolds, altheas. Every time a new one appeared she could feel a tickle in the other one, where she was holding the little shadow. It didn’t matter what she created after, every flower that her hands made shone in darkness in an ethereal way. The florist didn't waste time, and immediately bottled herself in the job of creating arrangements with those flowers. Her flowers, unique for having natural luminescence, soon caught the attention of a lot of clients. Her tulips lasted more than any other. There wasn't comparison for her amaryllis. The scent of her lavender was matchless. And the brightness that the laurels produced at night confused even the sunflowers.
When the clients came, money came with them, too. She expanded her business once, twice, three times, and with it, the size of her commissions increased as well. The woman she adored was happy for her, and also because her own business had bloomed thanks to the shiny flower arrangements it offered.
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But as her profits increased, their time together decreased. She stopped going for coffee with the florist, or to meet for dinner. Instead, the phone calls became more frequent, and it always started or ended with talks about work. The florist felt her love getting away, and believing it wasn't enough yet, she gave herself to her work. With just a little bit more effort she thought she'd be ready to confess to her. She just needed to sell more, gain more, make more. The flowers in her hand weren't enough anymore, so she started to produce them in her arm too. The she continued with the other. She started to notice that it hurt when she popped the plants from her skin, something that'd never happened before, but she ignored it. Don't they say that love hurts?
The flowers kept growing until they reached her shoulders, and little by little they advanced to her neck. The little shadow, that tickled her hard every time they appeared, one day started to tremble. It was the same day she found flowers on her back that she hadn't made. She tried to pull them off, but it was useless. Every time she got rid of one, two more sprouted. She tried doing it faster to not leave them time to come out, but when she did, three more appeared. Besides, the pain got stronger with each one she pulled, going through her muscles, and reaching her spine. If only she could use those flowers for her job it wouldn't have been that bad, but they withered every time they stop being in contact with her skin.
Then, they started to hurt even without pulling them. She could feel the roots going under her skin and extending like animals running through her body. She didn't notice the moment flowers started to appear from her hands and arms too. She pulled them when she saw them, but the pain was so intense that she wanted to cut her limb. She felt scared, and with every chill a new group of flowers sprouted from her.
She was in her flower shop, and tried to run outside to call for help, but tripped and fell. She noticed with fear that roots grew from her legs and pierced the floor, chaining her to the interior of her workplace. She opened her mouth to try screaming, but from her cheek appeared more flowers that went through her mouth with their roots, piercing her tongue and creating from it beautiful daffodils.
More and more flowers bloomed from her whole body, going through her clothes, her nails and her eyelids. As if they have heard her wish of making more, one after another appeared. As if answering the flowers, the little shadow trembled in an improvised dance. On the floor, the florist tried to creep, but was useless. From her arms and sides grew roots that, alongside the ones from her legs, trapped her in place. New flower buds didn't stop appearing, and they found their home on her skin, her muscles, her bones, and finally, they reached the organs.
Everything hurt... and suddenly, the pain went away. When it did, the shadow stopped moving.
By the time afternoon came, the phone was ringing nonstop with tens of missed calls and unread messages. They had knocked the door another dozen times, but the visitors left after receiving no answer. The interior of the flower shop was deserted, only inhabited by the unfinished arrangements and the enormous bush in the middle of the place from where it came the sweet scent of hundreds of flowers with the touch of a unique hydrangea, the last one of all the flowers to bloom.
No one was there to see the dark figure that suddenly appeared, which bended to pick up the little shadow, and disappeared as fast as it came. No one noticed how it had stopped, just a few seconds, to admire the flowers from the bush before that.
From the light that radiated from them appeared wonderful shadows.