Flowers.

The sharp, incessant ringing of the alarm clock pulled Marcus from his restless sleep. He groaned softly, his hand fumbling across the nightstand until it found the clock. With a firm press of his palm, the sound mercifully ceased, leaving the room in a heavy silence once more.

Tossing the velvet beige blanket off his body, Marcus swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. He sat there for a moment, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to rub away the lingering remnants of sleep. His mind was already ticking, the gears turning despite the early hour.

"I've got a little time before I need to head to Sarah's house," he murmured to himself, his voice low and scratchy from sleep. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, as he considered his morning. "Maybe I'll stop by that flower shop on the way there."

The thought hung in the air, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Flowers were simple, but they carried meaning. And after everything Sarah had been through, a thoughtful gesture felt like the least he could do.

With a sigh, Marcus pushed himself up from the bed, his joints creaking slightly as he stretched. He wandered over to the closet, pulling it open with a soft creak. Rows of neatly hung shirts and jackets greeted him, their muted tones reflecting his preference for understated simplicity. His hand hovered over a few options, hesitating as he debated with himself.

"Casual or a little more polished?" he mused, tilting his head as he eyed a dark button-up shirt. "It's lunch, not a business meeting. But still…"

He trailed off, his fingers brushing over the fabrics as he tried to picture the day ahead. It wasn't just about the outfit; it was about the tone he wanted to set. Thoughtful, calm, reassuring. The kind of presence Sarah might need after everything that had happened the night before.

Settling on a simple but clean navy shirt and dark jeans, Marcus laid the clothes out on the bed before heading toward the bathroom. As he moved through his small, quiet apartment, the early morning light filtered through the windows, casting soft golden streaks across the walls. 

Standing in front of the mirror, Marcus adjusted the collar of his navy shirt, smoothing the fabric with deliberate care. He turned slightly, inspecting his reflection with a critical yet satisfied eye. "Not bad," he muttered to himself, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He might not have any divinity tied to beauty, but he'd always managed to carry a natural, effortless charm—no matter which form he chose to wear.

With a final glance, he gave himself an approving nod and a light pat on the back. "Alright," he said, his tone calm but purposeful. "If I'm going to grab those flowers, I need to leave soon."

Marcus reached down and ran his hand over the front of his shirt, smoothing out a faint crease in the fabric that had caught his attention. He practiced his movements, almost meditatively, as if every small task centered him on the day ahead.

Crossing the room, he grabbed his keys from the small wooden tray on the counter. As he opened the door to leave, he paused for a moment, glancing back over his shoulder. The sunlight streaming through the windows bathed the walls in soft, golden hues, illuminating the space with a quiet warmth. It was a passing instant, but it filled him with a sense of peace and the promise of new beginnings.

With a small, almost imperceptible smile, Marcus turned back, locking the door behind him. The sunlight continued to pour endlessly into the room as he stepped into the day. His thoughts focused on the flowers waiting at the shop and the lunch he had promised to Sarah.

Sliding into the driver's seat of his car, Marcus pressed the circular ignition button. The engine whined to life, its low rumble filling the quiet of the morning. For a moment, he let the sound settle around him, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. With a small shift of the gear, he moved the car into drive; the vehicle rolling forward smoothly as he made his way toward the flower shop.

As the city unfolded before him, Marcus found himself momentarily entranced by the rhythm of modern human life. The flow of cars, weaving together like strands in a tapestry, seemed oddly poetic in its chaos. The way humans had organized their roads, constructed systems to accommodate as many people as possible—it was admirable, in its own imperfect way. For beings so bound by mortality, they had a remarkable knack for creating structures that felt timeless, even fleetingly divine.

But the soft hum of traffic and the pull of idle thoughts couldn't distract him for long. His destination appeared just ahead, a small flower shop nestled between a bakery and a bookstore. Its colorful awning and display of fresh blooms stood out against the muted tones of the neighboring buildings, like a splash of life amidst the gray.

Marcus pulled into a spot along the street, shifting the car into park with a practiced motion. Stepping out, he glanced briefly at the shop's exterior. The smell of flowers drifted toward him on the morning breeze, mingling with the faint aroma of bread from the bakery next door.

With a purposeful stride, Marcus crossed the sidewalk and stepped through the door of the flower shop. The soft chime of a bell announced his arrival, and the gentle, earthy scent of fresh blooms surrounded him. For a moment, he stood still, taking it all in—the vibrant colors, the delicate arrangements, the quiet hum of nature in this curated space.

Marcus took his time as he wandered through the shop, his eyes moving across the rows of carefully arranged blooms. Each bouquet was a testament to the care and creativity of its creator, but none of them felt right. None of them reminded him of Sarah.

He let his fingers trail lightly over a collection of sunflowers before moving on, his mind quietly turning over what he was looking for. Something vibrant, yet understated. Something that carried warmth but also depth. It wasn't until his gaze fell upon a small bouquet tucked into the bargain bin that he found exactly what he was searching for.

The bundle of lilies and purple carnations seemed unassuming at first glance, their delicate petals slightly imperfect but beautifully so. There was something real about them, something honest. They weren't flashy or overwhelming—they were quietly elegant, carrying a grace that reminded Marcus of Sarah herself.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached down and picked up the bouquet, the paper wrapping crinkling softly in his hands. Satisfied with his choice, he made his way to the front of the store, where a clerk stood behind the counter, their morning energy bright and cheerful.

"Good morning, ma'am," Marcus said warmly as he placed the flowers on the counter. "I'd like to buy these."

The clerk smiled, ringing up the bouquet with practiced ease. "Of course," she said, her tone friendly and teasing. "Are they for your special someone?"

Sliding the flowers across the counter, Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to retrieve his card. He paused for a moment, considering the question, before responding with a faint smirk. "Something like that," he replied, his voice light but evasive.

But before he could hand over the card, a sudden, deafening bang shattered the calm of the shop. The sound reverberated through the small space, jolting Marcus into sharp awareness.

His head whipped around toward the source of the noise just as the shop's door slammed against the wall, rebounding slightly on its hinges. A man stormed into the store, his face set in a mask of anger and desperation. In his hand was a gun, the barrel of which he quickly raised to point at both Marcus and the stunned clerk behind the counter.

The atmosphere in the shop shifted instantly, the quiet serenity replaced by a suffocating tension. Marcus's hand hovered near the counter, his body still as his mind raced. The bouquet sat between him and the clerk, the fragile blooms seeming out of place amidst the sudden violence.

For a brief moment, time seemed to slow. Marcus's dark eyes locked onto the man's weapon, then flicked up to the man's face. His expression remained calm, almost unnervingly so, as though he were calculating every detail of the scene before him.

"Alright," Marcus said softly, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of warning, "let's take it easy."

The man's grip on the gun tightened, his knuckles white as he took a step forward, his presence looming over the once-peaceful shop. The tension in the room was as sharp as the edge of a blade, and Marcus could feel the ley lines beneath his feet humming faintly, their energy stirring in response to his rising focus.

This wasn't just a moment of chance. It was a test.

And Marcus was ready.