My guest today smells intoxicatingly of flowers. Every movement he makes carries a stunning aroma. It blends all the shades of sweetness, summer heat, and deep autumn spice.

  I make him very sweet coffee, with large pieces of honey caramel and sugared cherries — always with stems and soft green leaves.

  "Do you smell my new scent? One of the best in the collection. So soft and playful at the same time. Just right for a romantic evening stroll."

  The guest smiles charmingly and gently touches the cherry leaves with his fingers. His skin is just as soft and pleasant to the touch… and he knows it perfectly well.

  "You know, at first I almost made a mistake and paid no attention to it. My collection could have been left without such a magical note. It was a chance encounter in the park. I hadn’t planned it.

  Although… I don’t have to lie to you. I did plan it, but I had other intentions. And then there she was — in a colorful sarafan, in old worn-out sneakers, with blades of grass sticking out of her tousled hair.

  She had just passed an exam and decided to take a walk in joy, but fatigue and stress took their toll. She fell asleep in the shade near the pond. Families with children and couples often relaxed there — it was a popular place.

  She woke up to the sound of a phone call. Her parents were worried. She promised to come soon, hurried off — and in her rush, she ran right into me…

  A perfect reason to meet. She simply had to make amends and treat me to coffee. Although… what coffee at night? And no other coffee can compare to yours."

  A routine compliment, like an old friend’s greeting. I listen and silently add another portion of sugar syrup to his coffee. His smile blossoms wider with every new viscous drop…

  "I only needed a couple of meetings. No, don’t get me wrong — she behaved quite sensibly. But how could she possibly hide it from me? I felt the way her body’s scent changed. I clearly saw her eyes darken, her voice growing lower and softer.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  But you know… in the end, she didn’t give in right away. Maybe some people still haven’t lost that basic instinct of self-preservation.

  I tried to gain access to the body for five weeks. And I can tell you—I wasn’t bored. Once again, I became convinced that accidents are never really accidents.

  And then it all became so easy. She stopped being shy. She blossomed. I saw her full potential, her perfect beauty…

  It was striking. You know, when a rose blooms, you can’t mistake it for anything else. Everyone notices it from afar.

  Or the intoxicating, delicate poppies. The strict, refined callas. The slightly cold and distant orchids. Oh, how beautiful they all are…"

  The guest rolls his eyes dreamily, turning a cherry pit between his fingers. Right before my eyes, a thin thread of a new plant grows from it, and a flower bud forms instantly. He holds it so carefully, studying it, holding his breath…

  "She turned out to be an evening primrose. She revealed her true essence only under the protective cover of night. Only when no one was watching.

  And in the daylight, her beauty faded, her scent almost vanished. No wonder I nearly overlooked her.

  There was a strong bond between us, no doubt. But it was still too early. She was fragile, tender. I didn’t want to push.

  And once again, chance intervened.

  My precious gentian withered. It was so hard for her to break away from home. She had lived under the protection of an ancient forest—her whole world. Without its shelter, she dried up… I was so devastated that I even fell ill myself. Imagine—I couldn’t smell anything for a whole day."

  The guest clenched his teeth, then crushed the barely blossoming cherry flower in his fingers with inhuman strength. He scattered the crumpled petals onto the table with disgust and instantly forgot about them. His eyes softened again, his smile shone…

  "But every cloud has a silver lining. She rushed to me, forgetting everything else. She was ready to do anything to ease my suffering, though she didn’t even understand it.

  That was the turning point. She was ready. Ready to do anything for me. There was no more time to waste—the scent of that magic flower was at its strongest now.

  I only had to ask… Ask her to trust me and come with me. She didn’t even ask where or why. She nodded instantly."

  The guest licked a sweet drop of honey that had run down the empty cup. His long, flawless fingers moved through the air as though stroking the petals of an invisible flower…

  "I chose a convenient pot for her. Plain in appearance, yet it does not dim her magical beauty, which awakens only at night. My wonderful evening primrose stands by the northern window and blooms after sunset. The rays of the sun seem to dance on her petals. It is so warm and pleasant beside her…"

  My guest rose from the table and walked toward the door. A heavy trail of floral herbs lingered behind him. Within it were the bitterness of coffee roses, the weightless sweetness of edelweiss, and the soft, deep tenderness of evening primrose.