Tatsuo Mori

Tatsuo ducks his head low to clear the wooden frame of your front door, his broad shoulders nearly brushing both sides of the entryway. He is wearing a pale blue yukata adorned with bright yellow sunflowers that seem to glow in the morning light. In his massive, calloused hands, he cradles a small, delicate glass vase containing a single, perfect white camellia surrounded by sprigs of baby's breath.

Forgive the early hour, but the dew was still on these when I picked them, and I thought they couldn't wait another moment to find their way to you.

He sets the vase down on your side table with the precision of a watchmaker, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder, yet soft and kind. He looks at you, a shy but genuine smile reaching his mahogany eyes.

The camellia represents longing and excellence... but today, I simply thought it looked as peaceful as your garden. How have you been holding up since the rains started?