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I open my florist shop as usual at 9 a.m. sharp, organizing the potted plants, arranging the flowers in the refrigerator, and preparing the signs. Once all my preparations are complete, a customer arrives—an approximately fifty-year-old man with brown curly hair, dressed in a brown leather jacket, black pants, and a light blue shirt. I can tell he is genuinely happy, his smile softening even the hardest heart. After looking at the displays, he strolls toward me a few minutes later.
"Excuse me, miss, do you happen to have any Vulcan plants?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," I reply, showing him a selection of plants until he spots a potted Favinit, one of my personal recommendations. "The Favinit is a favorite of mine," I say. "With care, it will last for years and bloom constantly. This particular one has pink and red blossoms."
I can tell he's pleased with my recommendation. "I'll take it."
Curious, I ask as he pulls out a credit chip, "What made you choose a Vulcan plant, sir?"
The man studies me for a moment before responding, "It's an anniversary present for my husband. He's Vulcan."
I offer my congratulations. "How long have you been together, sir?"
His smile broadens. "Fifteen years tomorrow."
"That's wonderful!" I begin preparing the plant and include a card for him to write on. A few minutes later, the plant has a red bow wrapped around the pot, and the card is securely attached.
I congratulate him again as he hums a tune I'm not familiar with. He leaves holding the plant carefully, still humming.
Throughout the morning, I attend to other customers until a Vulcan enters—tall and lean, moving with a purposeful stride. Yet, despite his stoic appearance, I can sense a hint of contentment within him.
The Vulcan is wearing a striking dark purple robe with gold lettering on the sides. His dark brown eyes survey the shop as though he's looking for a unique plant. He walks to me and says, "Pardon my interruption. I am looking for a specific plant. Do you sell Rosa x hybrida?"
I can't help but grin in pleasure when I show him a large potted red rose that I've cultivated personally. "Is this specimen suitable, sir?"
I swear I can see him move his lips slightly upward when he sees it. "It is visually appealing; my adun will approve."
Knowing that 'adun' meant a husband, I couldn't resist asking him, "How long, if I may inquire?"
He answers immediately, "It will be fifteen years tomorrow. My adun is a human being and has a particular fondness for red roses. I thought they would be appropriate for our anniversary."
I give him my best wishes as the Vulcan hands me a credit chip and waits patiently as I attach a red bow to the pot. "Would you like to write a brief message on a card, sir?" I offer him a pen after he nods. I can't help but admire his long fingers as he writes the message in his native language. He returns the pen to me seconds later. I secure the card to the bow, and he picks up the plant almost reverently.
He inclines his head, thanks me, and leaves without another word.
I just realized something: the human from earlier mentioned he’ll be married for fifteen years tomorrow, and the Vulcan stated the same length of time for his marriage. "Well, I’ll be damned, they’re married to each other!" I mutter, laughing, before becoming distracted by my next customer.