Buy Daffodils Out Of Season «LIMITED · Anthology»

"I need daffodils," Elias said. His voice was thin, like paper left in the sun.

When he walked into the hospice room, the sterile smell of antiseptic was overwhelmed by the sudden, aggressive fragrance of spring. Clara, propped up against pillows that seemed to swallow her small frame, opened her eyes.

"Elias," she whispered, her hand reaching out to catch a stem. "It’s too early." buy daffodils out of season

"I know the season," he said, clutching his coat collar. "But I need them today. For my wife. It’s her birthday, and she... she doesn't have until spring."

Mara stopped trimming the eucalyptus. She looked at the shop—filled with the deep reds of autumn mums, the dried browns of decorative wheat, and the waxy greens of winter berries. Daffodils were a memory of April, a burst of reckless yellow that had no business in a world turning gray. "I need daffodils," Elias said

"No," he said, tucking a bright yellow bloom behind her ear. "The world was just running a bit late. I went ahead and started without it."

"I can," Mara said. "But forced spring is expensive. And they won't last. They’re fragile when they’re born out of time. They’ll bloom bright for a day, maybe two, and then they’ll realize the world is cold and they’ll give up." "One day is enough," Elias replied. Clara, propped up against pillows that seemed to

The florist, a woman named Mara whose hands were permanently stained the color of crushed stems, finally looked up. "It’s nearly winter, sweetheart. You’re six months late or four months early, depending on how you look at it."