Aphrodite's flower shop seemed to exist in a small bubble of peace in the middle of a city unaware of the absurdity of the world around it. Outside, people strolled along the sidewalk, unaware that the woman behind the counter had once been worshipped as a goddess, cursed by poets, desired by kings, and hated by the wives of men who confused devotion with obsession. Inside, however, everything was simple. Lined-up vases, hanging bouquets, freshly watered flowers, the scent of damp earth, and colorful petals bathed in the soft light streaming through the window.
