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Description
She had always loved flowers. They were her way of expressing herself, of letting the world know what she felt inside. She had a special gift: whenever she experienced a strong emotion, a flower would bloom on her skin, reflecting her mood. She was a living bouquet, a human garden.

She had learned to control her gift, to hide it from prying eyes. She wore long sleeves and gloves, scarves and hats. She avoided crowds and loud noises, anything that could trigger a reaction. She lived a quiet life, working as a florist in a small shop. She arranged flowers for others, but never for herself.

One day, a man walked into her shop. He had a warm smile and kind eyes. He asked for a bouquet of roses, for his mother's birthday. She felt a flutter in her chest, and a tiny bud sprouted on her wrist. She quickly covered it with her sleeve, hoping he wouldn't notice. She made the bouquet, wrapping it in paper and ribbon. He paid her, and thanked her. He said he liked her shop, and her name. He said he would come back soon. He left, and she felt a surge of happiness. A sunflower bloomed on her cheek.

She realized she had fallen in love. She didn't know what to do. She had never felt this way before. She wanted to see him again, to talk to him, to touch him. But she was afraid. Afraid of what he would think of her, of her gift. Afraid of what would happen if he rejected her, or worse, if he accepted her. She didn't know if she could handle it. She didn't know if she could handle the flowers.

She decided to take a risk. She waited for him to come back, as he had promised. She wore a dress, and a hat. She put on some makeup, and some perfume. She wanted to look her best, to impress him. She wanted to be normal, to be like everyone else.

He came back, a week later. He brought her a box of chocolates, and a card. He said he wanted to ask her something. He said he liked her, a lot. He said he wanted to take her out, to dinner, or a movie, or anything she liked. He said he wanted to be with her. He asked her if she felt the same way.

She felt a wave of emotion. Love, joy, fear, doubt, hope. She felt them all at once, and she couldn't contain them. She felt the flowers burst out of her, covering her body, her clothes, her hat. She felt the colors explode around her, painting the air, the walls, the floor. She felt the petals fall, like rain, like snow. She felt him stare, in shock, in awe, in wonder.

She looked at him, and she saw his expression. She saw his smile, and his eyes. She saw his hand, reaching for hers. She saw his lips, moving towards hers. She saw his flower, a red rose, blooming on his heart.

Description
She had always loved flowers. They were her way of expressing herself, of letting the world know what she felt inside. She had a special gift: whenever she experienced a strong emotion, a flower would bloom on her skin, reflecting her mood. She was a living bouquet, a human garden.

She had learned to control her gift, to hide it from prying eyes. She wore long sleeves and gloves, scarves and hats. She avoided crowds and loud noises, anything that could trigger a reaction. She lived a quiet life, working as a florist in a small shop. She arranged flowers for others, but never for herself.

One day, a man walked into her shop. He had a warm smile and kind eyes. He asked for a bouquet of roses, for his mother's birthday. She felt a flutter in her chest, and a tiny bud sprouted on her wrist. She quickly covered it with her sleeve, hoping he wouldn't notice. She made the bouquet, wrapping it in paper and ribbon. He paid her, and thanked her. He said he liked her shop, and her name. He said he would come back soon. He left, and she felt a surge of happiness. A sunflower bloomed on her cheek.

She realized she had fallen in love. She didn't know what to do. She had never felt this way before. She wanted to see him again, to talk to him, to touch him. But she was afraid. Afraid of what he would think of her, of her gift. Afraid of what would happen if he rejected her, or worse, if he accepted her. She didn't know if she could handle it. She didn't know if she could handle the flowers.

She decided to take a risk. She waited for him to come back, as he had promised. She wore a dress, and a hat. She put on some makeup, and some perfume. She wanted to look her best, to impress him. She wanted to be normal, to be like everyone else.

He came back, a week later. He brought her a box of chocolates, and a card. He said he wanted to ask her something. He said he liked her, a lot. He said he wanted to take her out, to dinner, or a movie, or anything she liked. He said he wanted to be with her. He asked her if she felt the same way.

She felt a wave of emotion. Love, joy, fear, doubt, hope. She felt them all at once, and she couldn't contain them. She felt the flowers burst out of her, covering her body, her clothes, her hat. She felt the colors explode around her, painting the air, the walls, the floor. She felt the petals fall, like rain, like snow. She felt him stare, in shock, in awe, in wonder.

She looked at him, and she saw his expression. She saw his smile, and his eyes. She saw his hand, reaching for hers. She saw his lips, moving towards hers. She saw his flower, a red rose, blooming on his heart.