rose lane · est. mcmix
vass works from a yard behind the shop, where the cut flowers wait in tin pails under a tarp. she will not sell you a bouquet without asking who it is for. wrong answers earn lesser flowers — she has been known to substitute a thistle for a rose, with no remark.
the rose painted on the sign is, she insists, a particular rose: the one her mother grew against the south wall, gone now for thirty winters. the painter did not know that, but got it right anyway, which is the way of these things.
field-note: the smell never makes it as far as the doorway. you must go in.leaf · ribbon · pharmacist · garden · chandler