Bouquetman -

And when you have forgotten what it feels like to be loved? He extends one pale, root-veined hand. In it is a new flower: a perfect, white camellia. The flower of a fatal gift.

A bouquet. Not of roses or lilies, but of forgotten things : wilted apology notes, torn photographs of ex-lovers, broken watch hands stopped at the exact moment a promise was broken, and dried thistles wrapped in frayed black ribbon. The flowers are always fresh, yet always dying. The center of the arrangement is a single, dark sunflower that never faces the sun—it faces you . bouquetman

Witnesses—those few who claim to have seen him and retained their sanity—describe a figure of impossible geometry. At first, he appears to be a man in a long, charcoal coat, standing perfectly still at the end of a hallway or across a foggy park. But as your eyes adjust, you realize his head is not a head. It is an arrangement. And when you have forgotten what it feels like to be loved

And the next morning, there is always one more flower in the bouquet. The flower of a fatal gift

The legend says that if you accept it, you don’t die. Worse—you become part of his arrangement. Another wilted note. Another stopped watch. Another face pressed into the dark sunflower, forever staring out at a world you can no longer smell.