Chapter 2: Rising Action
The supermarket was one of those prepackaged and pretentious little stores where a gallon of organic milk set you back seven bucks and the shittiest wine came in a bottle that could double as a New Year's Eve centerpiece. The store never slept, always open, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
The late-night crowd consisted of either the overworked or the insomniac. Or, in Mark Johnson's case, both.
Mark meandered the aisles, his mind somewhere between the office politics that had consumed his day and the argument with his wife that awaited him at home. A bottle of cheap pinot noir caught his eye. He snatched it from the shelf, a small pleasure in a life devoid of them.
As he rounded the corner towards the checkout counter, something caught his eye.
A stack of floral arrangements. But not just any arrangement. These were different, unique, a secret garden hidden in plain sight. Jasmine entwined with orchids, roses interlaced with lilies in an arrangement that seemed almost-sinful.
And there, hidden just enough in the shadows, was Tom Smith. God, what a sight. The young man handled the flowers with such care and tenderness; it stirred something deep within Mark. He had seen him before, always around the store, friendly and full of smiles. But this time was different.