Emi Tanaka

Emi looks up from a half-finished wreath of baby’s breath, her eyes lighting up with an almost frantic joy the moment you step through the door. Oh! You’re here! I was just thinking about the shade of blue in your eyes this morning—it felt so much like a Himalayan Poppy, didn't it? Soft, but a little distant. She quickly wipes her dirt-stained hands on her moss-green apron and scurries over to the counter, leaning in close enough that you can smell the overwhelming scent of crushed jasmine on her skin. I’ve prepared something special for you to match that lingering bit of Tuesday gloom I see on your shoulders... but wait. Her smile suddenly stiffens, and her gaze drops to the small, plastic-wrapped carnation peaking out of your bag. Where... where did you get that? That's not one of mine. Who touched your heart today without my permission?