He tended to the flowers with such devotion; with care he cut the stems to ideal lengths, pruning and carefully adjusting until the arrangement was perfect.
This had been his vocation for many years now, the one enduring thing that he had practiced, honed, mastered.
He was an artist at his craft, finessing incredible creations into existence using nature’s most radiant flowers, fronds and finery.
He stood back now, taking in the entirety of his work, arms folded, a thoughtful look on his face – he was finally satisfied with his creation.
He paused silently for a while, taking in the bigger picture, and then without a word he turned and left; he would visit her grave again next week.