Blue Velvet

“Thanks for coming by again, Ms. Hazel!”

Honest Heart waved after the ornery mare leaving the flower shop with an enthusiastic smile, but no sooner than the door lay flush with the interior wall of the store did he slump against the counter before him and let out what he often described to his boss as “the longest sigh anypony has ever sighed.” Today was going to be the same as the previous day, and the next day will be the same as today, and nothing will ever change.

The reality of his absurd, mundane lifestyle was enough to make Heart sick.

Honest Heart was about twenty, had no special skills or talents of note, and worked in a tiny flower shop called C’est la Vin on the corner of first and twenty-fourth street in the middle of the busiest part of Manehattan. Of course, that isn’t to say that his shop was busy, per se—he’d count his blessings if he saw more than ten customers per eight hour shift. At first, it had surprised him that the clientele was so sparse, but considering the nature of the area he figured it maybe wasn’t that strange that nopony was planting massive flower gardens with space they didn’t have atop their high-rise lofts and inside their studio apartment complexes.

How exactly had he ended up in this mess? He was going to be a star athlete, playing hoofball in open-air stadiums amid the screams of thousands of roaring fans cheering his name, wearing his merchandise, and starting fights in the stands with fellow cheerers. He should have been a doctor by now, having gone to medical school and opened up his own hospital where he let not a single patient be left untreated. There was still that dream of going into space, but if there were any ways to get up there that didn’t involve threatening to cloak Equestria in eternal darkness, Heart hadn’t heard about them.

No, Heart didn’t do any of that, much to the chagrin of his parents. He’d protested so much at following his parents’ ideals that he packed up his things as soon as he was of age, pilfered some of the funds his folks had stowed away for his future college endeavors, and taken the first train to anywhere but the backwater, unnamed hamlet he had grown up in and known all his life; he somehow managed to land in Manehattan, which wasn’t any more than one hundred miles from the village. He could still remember how amazed he had been when he’d first laid eyes upon the sleepless city. There were ponies absolutely everywhere, going about their own business like background characters in a good play. There were stalls where merchants would peddle their goods (often unsuccessfully) to passersby, about a hundred little hole-in-the-wall shops and restaurants lined up and down main street, and enough smog in the sky that he could probably look directly at Celestia’s sun for a time with no ill effects. Probably.

His first few days in the city hadn’t amounted to much, considering he had no prior connections and hadn’t really thought the move through as much as he probably should have. His daily endeavors were mostly related to begging everypony and everypony for a job, diving into rough-looking neighborhoods for a cheap place to live, and surviving off of stall food and sleeping on park benches during the night. Twice he’d awoken to his belongings being rummaged through, but he somehow managed to keep it together long enough to land a job here, at C’est la Vin.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure how he had convinced Fertile Eyes to give him the job. The stallion, a charcoal gray with a graying brown mane, had looked Heart up and down for all of two seconds when he’d first barged into the front door, practically dragging his entire house behind him, begging for a place to work before he’d declared that he wasn’t hiring. Heart remembered that he’d argued with the stallion for three or so hours, during which time it had become painfully obvious that not a single customer had shown up. Once he’d pointed that out, Fertile seemed to relent a little, and they’d managed to work out a part-time deal in exchange for him trying to bring more clientele into the store. That was a little easier said than done, really.

He’d tried everything: flipping signs around with his magic, talking to people on the street, yelling at people on the street, starting fights with people on the street, nearly getting arrested for prompting altercations with people on the street, and almost losing his job due to the people on the street. After that one, Fertile and he had to have a serious conversation about what it actually meant to draw people into the store, and not make their reputation even worse.

This had prompted the ultimatum that Fertile gave Heart a few months earlier after two years of trying and failing to garner significant sales increases and client retention: if he couldn’t get at least one regular customer by the end of the year, he was out.

Heart sighed again, drawing the attention of Fertile Eyes, who had been arranging the same few groups of flowers for the past hour or so. He snorted and took his hooves from the flowers to plant them firmly on the ground, the sound snapping Heart from his stupor.

“Whasat? Did you need me for something?”

“If you’ve got time to sigh then you’ve got time to help clean shop. D’ya see that over there?” Fertile gazed over to the checkered black-and-white tile of the shop that lay beyond the counter, gesturing to some no-doubt minute detail that Heart hadn't noticed, though to what specifically he was referring to Heart had no idea.

“Okay, yeah, I see the floor, but what am I supposed to be looking at exactly?” Heart reached a hoof up to scritch-scratch his chin a few times before turning back to the stallion with a look of confusion.

Fertile Eyes gestured with his hoof to a small corner of the room, pointing out a few display tables awash in vibrant pink and orange chrysanthemums that Heart had personally arranged a few hours ago. Heart squinted, but still couldn’t catch what the older stallion had. “Sorry boss, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, look at that arrangement over there. See anything wrong with that? You did do that arrangement, didn’t you? I don’t see anypony else in the store, let alone anypony that works for me.” Fertile grumbled some more and Heart finally realized what he was so heated about. In the middle of the chrysanthemum sea lay a single white rose.

The younger stallion stared dumbfounded at the flower for a few seconds before scratching his head once more, his horn flaring to life as he grabbed the rose and plopped it into its respective bin a few feet away on the next table. “Was that what you were talking about?”

Heart's ornery boss simply nodded, going back to the arrangement he had been nursing for what felt like half the day. “I want this store to look perfect for when she comes in—should be any minute now.”

Heart blinked, the realization dawning on him before he nearly leaped across the counter, doing some last-minute tidying up wherever he could—considering tidying up was most of his job in the first place, though, his actions were a formality at best. He was about to run over his arrangement for the fifth or sixth time when the door chime sounded and the soft clip-clopping of hooves broke the strained silence of the shop. A cream colored mare slowly made her way in, her two-toned teal mane bouncing lightly with each step. Heart did his best not to stare, but it was no secret that seeing her was one of his favorite parts about working at the tiny flower shop. She turned to greet Heart, dipping her head a bit, and then wandered over to the arrangement of roses in the far corner of the room. She sniffed them, just like she always did, and then she grabbed a generous bouquet from the table and brought it up the counter. Briefly, Heart wondered why it was always roses before he realized that she was waiting for him to ring her order up and quickly made his way up to the register.

“S-sorry about that, I was just… doing some last-minute arranging before you got here, so. Well, yeah...” Heart trailed off awkwardly, the familiar flush of red creeping up his cheeks like it always did when he saw her.

The mare giggled a bit before producing a few bits and nudging them towards him. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not like I’m in a rush—I don’t think she’ll mind if I’m a few minutes late.”

Heart nodded, though he had no idea who she was referring to—a hospital-bound family member, maybe? He wrapped the bits in an emerald glow before depositing them in the open register and printing her off a receipt, though out of habit he tossed it into the nearby garbage bin—he knew she wouldn’t want it. If she was impressed with his attention to detail, she didn’t say, instead option to take her bouquet and deposit it into the tan saddlebag on her side before turning to leave. As he watched her go, Heart tried to think of something to say to get her attention—he’d been meaning to ask more about her, or strike up a conversation, but she had such an unapproachable air about her that it was hard to find the words. Just as he’d figured out what to say to get her to stop, the mare came to a halt just before the door and turned around.

“Honest Heart, right? Thank you.” She gave a little nod to Fertile, who grunted a little in response, and then she made her way out of the shop and back into the busy Manehattan street life.

Silence reigned over the shop before Heart slumped once again against the counter and let out the longest sigh anypony has ever sighed.

“I was this close to talking to her! I was going to ask who she bought those flowers for, or maybe what she did for a living, or if she wanted to get something to eat… Oh, who am I kidding?” Heart’s sudden depression was almost visible, a dark cloud of despondency forming over his head to shower his thoughts with regret and shame. Clicking his tongue, Fertile clubbed Heart’s shoulder, nearly sending the smaller stallion sprawling onto the floor. “Hey, what was that for?” Heart started to growl at the older pony, but his thoughts were interrupted by a deep chuckle coming from Fertile’s barrel of a chest.

“Nothing, you just remind me of myself when I was your age. My wife took a looot of coaxing from me before I was able to get her to give me the time of day, and when I finally had the chance I nearly blew it. Your time will come, kid.” Heart scowled at his boss for a moment before returning to his silent vigil over the shop's front door, the sour mood he'd steeped dissipating a little as the lighthearted monologue of a nostalgic older stallion continued beside him for the remainder of his shift.