The only thing I could think of, though, was one simple questioning word.. Why?

Almost directly in front of the coffee shop stood a worn and dirty wooden shack-like stand. Impossibly beautiful flowers bloomed from every scratched and scuffed surface on the tiny stand. It was a remarkable scene that made me itch for a camera.

I stopped to look closely. There were no bouquets, just random assortments of flowers to pick and choose from; roses and tulips of every shade and flowers I’ve never, ever seen before. Some’re larger than my hand, while quite a few were as small as my pinky nail. The colors- here words fail. I quickly did something totally out of my normal characteristic range- I bought a dozen flowers for myself.

The ancient lady behind the ‘counter’, whose name tag read “Lilly”, thanked me, and I stepped into the coffee shop. Once inside, I sank into the nearest vacant over stuffed armchair, because something was seriously wrong with me; the evidence was in the past 15 min.

why..?