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CHAPTER SEVEN VII. a flower for an apology [ season 2, episode 4 ]
Breaking her Aunt Jenny's plant-pot wasn't something that could be forgiven oh-so-easily, Steph had discovered.
She was sent into town in search of a new one, alongside a bunch of flowers Jenny would appreciate enough to put on display. Unfortunately, Steph did not own a car, and was forced to venture to the floristry on foot ── despite the crippling length of the journey. Well . . . it was a mile and half. Steph simply abhorred walking when she wasn't in the right mood for it, now being one of those times.
People gave her strange looks as she meandered down the strip of stores. People being the elderly population of Hawkins who found it strange when teenagers wore anything other than old-fashioned floral dresses that covered every visible patch of flesh.
Steph had rebelled in their eyes.
She was wearing a pale-blue dress with a stitching pattern down the middle, heavy combat boots, and a leather jacket. Her hair was messed up more than usual, mostly because she had taken the scissors to the white-blonde locks last night, hacking away dead ends and adding more eccentric layers.
In Atlanta City, people rarely batted an eyelid at Steph's appearance. But here, in the miserable town of Hawkins, she felt the weight of citizens stares upon her everywhere she went. Having an obscene bruise splattered across the bridge of her nose didn't help her case, either.
Fortunately enough, Steph didn't care.
With this in mind, she strolled past an elderly couple watching her intently, faint scowls pressed upon their wrinkled features. Once the couple realised they were blocking her entrance to the florist shop, they slowly shifted aside, murmuring something quietly between themselves.
Steph rolled her eyes, refusing to give them a thanks in return.
Instead, she wandered into the small shop, keeping her chin elevated pridefully.
There was a faint, musky fragrance lingering in the air, emitted from the swarms of flowers stacked into every crevice of the dimly-lit florist. For the most part, the store was desolate, without considering the occasional customer interested in purchasing a bouquet for a special occasion, or the workers milling around aimlessly. A woman by the counter was pressuring a bored looking colleague into giving advice on the best variety of flowers to gift a newly wed couple. The answers were vague ── which was a given considering the topic at hand.
