The Softest Negotiation of Spring

I spent three hours negotiating a merger that demanded I be made of steel, but the moment my heels hit this sidewalk, the armor felt heavy. Here is where they live—the boardroom and the bedroom—separated only by the distance between the bank building and home. Then you stopped me. Not with words or demands, but simply because your hands were trembling holding a bouquet that looked like sunshine distilled into stems. The blue suit was sharp enough to cut glass, designed for intimidation in conference rooms, yet suddenly it felt softer against my skin as I reached out to take the flowers from you. It is strange how we spend our lives sharpening edges until they glow, only to find healing arrives wrapped in petals and a smile that feels like coming home after winter.

Editor: Stiletto Diary