A small bell rang as a girl with brown hair made her way into a small, green shop. In one arm was a book, tucked away from the wind and dust outside. The other held her cloche hat close to her head. It was hellishly hot outside, and the wind made it all the worse. Inside was another girl, this one with a blonde head and a pair of glasses perched on her straight nose. The blonde girl was on the rotary phone. On the counter were 6 bouquets, half-made. 

“Thank you, wonderful speaking to you,” the blonde one smiled into the phone, “Thank you, goodbye.”

“Who was that?” the brown-haired girl asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the blonde one teased, “Just a customer. They were asking about a small bouquet for a wedding.”

The girl with the hat set her book on the counter. She fixed her hair a bit before speaking in a more quiet voice, “May, how are you doing?”

“As well as I can,” May sighed, “I’ll be fine it’s just been... It’s just been a tad overwhelming, that’s all. Nevermind that, what, my dear Rosie, are you here for?”

Rosie smirked, “Is it a crime to check in on a friend?”

May smiled and arranged the white lilies in the bouquet. “Of course it’s not, but I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“Like what?”

May paused and tried to keep in a small giggle, “How’s that boy of yours doing? What’s his name again? Richard Manson?”

Rosie’s face flushed, “Oh you just leave Richard alone!”

“Richard doesn’t even exist!”

“Shhh!” Rosie leaned on the counter and put a finger to her lips, “If my parents hear of Richard’s, ah, imaginary status, they’ll kill me. Shot dead in the yard like a dog!”

May looked back to her bouquet. The arrangement was incredibly fragrant, “How long has it been? Three years with him? Shouldn’t they be getting suspicious by now?”

Rosie shook her head, “I told them he’s a traveling salesman. Frankly, I think they’re more worried about the house than any fancy I may have.” Rosie looked up at May and sighed, “Though I do wish they’d meet him soon.”

May glanced away from Rosie. She made her way towards the foxglove. The shop was full of flowers, both cuttings and planted, and so it always seemed full and lively. Rosie’s favorite was the baby’s breath. The delicate white flowers reminded her of the first snow. May’s, however, were the dahlias. To her, they seemed strong, elegant. Neither of them, however, liked the foxglove despite its popularity. The pink flowers drooped downwards, like church bells. Rosie had a cousin that died from eating foxgloves. 

“The weather’s been terrible, hasn’t it? I’m not sure I’ll be able to get these bouquets back home,” May commented. Her tone was casual but there was a slight bitterness to it, “We just need some rain.”

“Well, a storm’s been brewing over the mountains. I think so, at least. It should revive this area, I think?” 

“Or there will be no rain and just more wind.”

Rosie frowned. She tapped her fingernails against the counter. Her entire posture was casual, yet there was a certain rigidity to her stance. Her mouth was stretched into a line as if she was pondering something. She was a very expressive person, as much as she denied it. 

May let out a small chuckle, “What are you thinking about?”

“Hm? Oh me? Nothing.”

“There’s obviously something,” May replied, crossing her arms.

Rosie sighed and set her hands on the counter. She observed her palms and quietly said “Is this it?”

“Is what ‘it’?” May asked.

“This,” Rosie gestured to the store, to the wind outside, “Is this it? I mean constantly skirting around things? Of making small talk while you work? We haven’t had a real conversation in years, don’t you ever think about that?”

May pursed her lips, “What are you talking about? We’re talking right now I mean… I mean this is good, it’s safe.”

“Safe doesn’t mean good,” Rosie retorted.

“I just don’t understand what you mean. What else could we want?” May questioned defensively. 

“A life! This isn’t living it’s just scraping by and I’m so tired of it!”

“Then what do you propose, then? Hm?” May snapped, “Do we go about to your parents ‘oh look here’s my friend! I’m going to escape to- to California with her!’ Is that the ‘life’ you’re looking for?”

Rosie scowled at May, “You know I’m not that stupid I just-”

“Then what are you expecting?”

Rosie took in a deep breath, trying to calm her flaring anger. “May, my dear, I’m worried that soon we may not be able to continue this.”

“What… What do you mean exactly?”

“My parents-” Rosie sighed before continuing, “My parents are sending me to Georgia, so that I may live with my Aunt and Uncle. They want me to become a teacher down there and I… I…”

“Please stop. Don’t say anything more,” May turned to look at the daffodils behind her so that she didn’t need to look at Rosie.

“But this doesn’t need to be the end. I don’t have to go- we can escape to New York or Los Angeles. Hell, let’s go to Berlin! You could open another flower shop- it’ll be perfect! We can do this! We can carve out our own life there, we don’t have to be separate we can be-”

“I said stop it!” May yelled. She slammed her hands on the counter before taking a few more shaky breaths. She turned back to Rosie, tears visible in her eyes. “I can’t do this. Life here… Life is good. My family is here. My home is here. My life is here.”

Rosie pounded her fists on the counter, “What family? What life!? May I know who those bouquets are for. For Christ’s sake, I’m not an idiot! You don’t have anything left here!”

“Then what’s all this?!” May gestured to her shop, “This is all I have left of him! I can’t just leave him here!”

Rosie reached over the counter and grabbed May’s arms, “Mayflower- He’s not here! He’s dead! In a couple of hours, he’ll be six fee-”

Clap. May’s hand streaked across Rosie’s cheek, leaving a bright red handprint. Rosie dropped May’s arms and grabbed her face. Tears began to well in her eyes and her bottom lips quivered. May grabbed her offending hand. Her breath was incredibly shaky. 

“Rosie I’m sorry I didn’t mean t-”

“Forget it,” Rosie spat, pure venom in her voice, “If you’d rather be trapped here with a dead man, so be it. But don’t expect me to sit around waiting for you.”

“Rosie please- Wait- I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I promise I-”

“Hmph, I think you mean you didn’t want anything to happen,” Rosie put on her cloche once more, “Oh, I almost forgot. The book, it was intended to be a gift but I suppose now it’d be more useful as fire fuel.” Not waiting for an answer, Rosie pushed the door open and set out. May watched as the wind pulled and tugged at her hair, her clothes. Ferocious and unyielding. She was breathless. That was the first argument they had ever had. She gripped her arms, was it to be the last as well? Everything was spinning around her. Her hand tingled from the sheer violence and fury that came with the slap. 

There was May, inside her father’s shop, and there was Rosie, outside facing the merciless wind. There was May, alone, and there was Rosie, ready to take on the world. There was May and there was Rosie. May shook her head. She looked at the lilies in the bouquet, and back outside. She made up her mind. It was now or never.

She charged out into the wind. Inside, she didn’t understand the sheer brutality of it, but even so, she called out. “Rosie! Wait!”

Rosie only glanced back, “What could you possibly want?”

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean anything!” May’s words were caught in her throat and flung to the wind. 

Rosie stopped and turned. She marched up to May and looked her dead in the eyes. “You may not have meant it. That doesn’t change anything. You showed me how you truly are and this-” she gestured to the world “-This was nothing more than a simple flirt. Let it die now.”

“Rosie you can’t possibly mean that!”

She glared at May, “I’ve said my peace. I’m going to New York.”

“But you can’t just leave everything behind!”

“May, you hit me. Even if it was an accident, you’ve laid the groundwork for something awful. This won’t work out for either of us.”

May shook her head and said, “But it’s been three years. I can’t just let you go now.”

Rosie grabbed May’s hand. She allowed herself a moment to hold it. “When he ate that foxglove, we dug it up. No matter how beautiful it was, it still killed a part of us. No matter how much we try and forget it, how much we move on from it, the fact still remains that foxglove is dangerous.”

“But we don’t need to dig it up. We just need to be careful, right? It was his fault he ate it.”

“Mayflower,” Rosie sighed and cupped her hand around May’s cheek, “We still planted the seeds.”

They paused. For a brief time, the wind felt like it subsided. They both knew, May and Rosie, that this would be the end. The wind, however, never stopped. 

Rosie ended up following her parent’s will. The hurt and pain May caused her stayed with her. She needed to leave that small town and so she did. She moved to Georgia with her Aunt and Uncle and became a teacher. May stayed and, when the war came, her business took off. Turns out many families need lilies during a war. They never forgot each other, but the foxglove died that day.