A Vast Exterior

The sun illuminates the city's soul as it sets on the horizon. Loud crashes and loud voices can be heard in the market's bustling economy. Sounds of a horn from various automotive give the place its signature noise. Yawns from two police officers patrolling the area to start the birth of a serial killer.

"Nothing special today, aye?" Said one police officer while sipping his coffee in the early morning of Tuesday. "For now, we might not know what could happen later in the afternoon," another officer replied. "Yet, it is a beautiful morning," he suggests.

The other nods as he eyes the surroundings for a potential breakthrough. As the morning passes, a shrieking noise that came from an alleyway two blocks from where they are was heard. They grab their equipment and went to the shrieking lady who has a horrifying face as she pulls away from the alleyway.

One of the officers assists the lady then asks her what could happen. Instead of answering, she points in a straight direction towards what could be a person lying on the cold ground. Without hesitation, they approach the person and what they discover is what changes their beautiful daydream into a sickening nightmare.

There, lying on the cold ground, an unidentifiable face of a person with no hands, no hair, no teeth, no tongue, and a makeup brush stuck on her left eye. They immediately call for back up and minutes later, the back up arrived with the forensic team in tow.

As the other police officers calm themselves down, their other colleagues put on the yellow tape to prevent reporters and other people to capture any reliable evidence that remains on the victim.

The forensic team searches for every identity that could survive but none was found. As they search for more clues as to what could happen to her, a team of detectives came over and asks every witness they could find to speak up about the crime. Later on, they interview the forensic team leader.

"Any luck on finding who this person might be, Doctor?" One detective asks as he approaches the forensic doctor who is taking every piece of evidence in a ziplock. The doctor shakes her head and looked at the dead victim in front of them. "Any other pieces of information about our victim?" He asks once again, trying to pry any information from her but then again, the doctor doesn't have anything to offer.

"Well, we've checked everything and we cannot find any identity of our Jane Doe over here except for the makeup brush and her clothes. There is no DNA to test with, either. It seems as if our killer knows what he is doing," she explains. The detectives nod their heads while they try to walk through the crime scene itself to see what clues they could find on their own.

As the detectives look for their clues, one of the forensic team asks for their assistance over something that he saw while taking pictures of the scene. It was a single not bloomed flower with blue petals lying on the cold ground.

One of the detectives puts his gloves on before picking up the flower and observes it for a while before asking their team leader if they know the nearest flower shop to ask about the meaning of the flower or what could the flower symbolizes.

They finish the investigation as they try to push the reporters out of the way to put the victim on a stretcher and into the ambulance while other investigators went to the nearest flower shop to ask about the meaning of the flower.

As the city rushes to solve the crime, a sweet song has been playing from miles away as he laughs his sorrows out. The sweetest song he could write while the stranger he picked up from his last crime is cooking outside his room.

As he hums the song that he wrote years ago, a loud horn cuts his rain of thoughts. He looked outside and he saw a police car stops by the flower shop near his home. He saw the tiny details of who he assumed was the detective on the crime he had done.

He chuckles at himself and sat back down as he closed his eyes and reminisces the face and the voice of his little guinea pig. A tiny smile appeared on his face as his heartbeats in a slow-paced, moments later, he enters dreamland.

0~0~0

The bells clang by the door indicating his last customer. He fixes his smile and faces his customer. "Good evening," he greets, smiling sweetly to his last customer, who nods back as he greets the florist.

"Hello," the customer greets back with his deep baritone voice. The florist looks up to him to analyze a bit of what could he want when he recognizes who could be this person. "Oh, it's just you," he says in relief, as he walks behind the counter to prepare for his order. His customer chuckles as he gives him a small smile.

"Rough day?" He asked. The customer hums as an answer. "The same thing?" He asked once again. This time, the customer answered with a "Yes" to the florist. The florist smiles and grabbed the tiny bloomed flower he kept just for this special customer of his.

He wraps it carefully in plastic and gave it to him. The customer pays him and as he waits for his change of coins. The florist looks at every detail of this fine young man in front of him and he smiles to himself. The florist gave his change and the customer nods to him then grabbed a piece of paper to write him something.

He wrote two words with an innocent definition yet a sickening meaning behind it. The florist smiles knowing what he meant. He nods and smiles at him as he follows his customer outside. He waves goodbye as he walks away from the flower shop and into the darkness of the night.

The florist looks up at the starry night sky of the city's soul. The florist thought to himself as he closes down his shop. He smiles and switches the light off and went to his apartment.

'One day someone will appreciate all of your arts, Mr. Primrose.'