Who: Boston Fitch, Peter Petrelli When: 2:13pm Where: Fitch Flowers What: Working
It was only inching into the afternoon in New York City, and already it had been a day and a half for her.
Boston had been up since seven as usual, but the morning had seemed to drag with the traffic. She made her way downtown to her shop by eight thirty, a little bit later today than she would have liked, and opened a half an hour before her first employee of the day punched in. Normally Boston loved to be up and contributing to the day earlier than most others, but for some reason, though she did not give in to the temptation, she had just been terribly compelled to sleep in. It could have been the lazy weather, the bright sun even in the early morning and the muggy heat making her want to cling to her bed. There hadn't been many clouds in the sky when she had unlocked the doors to Fitch Flowers on Main St, but by lunchtime an ominous grey cover had descended, heavy over the city. The heat however had not diminished, and left Boston with the idea of thunderstorms.
The rain had started before one and had not abated since. The storm continued to swell into the afternoon, raindrops hitting the pavement outside so hard that it looked like hail, and when Gina arrived, the favorite of her employees, she carried an umbrella that had been blown inside out by the wind. The weather had stopped any deliveries that she had had lined up for the day, and so by the afternoon her supply of different blooms had dwindled significantly, even with the lack of customers. Boston had found herself reading for the last hour, slowly flipping the pages of some forgotten romance novel she had picked up from the back of the store, no doubt left there by one of the other girls.
The story seemed so silly to her, such luck befalling young people on yellowed pages, but Boston couldn't help but look up hopefully when the bell over the door tinkled so much more quietly than the rain outside.