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This cafe was one of the quieter places in Calw to spend one’s time. It was a fairly small town despite its wealth, so there wasn’t really much to do here if you didn’t have anything at home that could act as a diversion for one’s time. Anything that wasn’t part of a larger chain or a large business related to prosthetic manufacturing was usually just the hobby shop of some wealthy person’s spouse that they ran solely to have something to occupy their time with. This place was run by the husband of some parts distributor in town, Kromer thought she remembered. The man at the counter was clearly more occupied with his hobby baking and the ever-changing décor than any real attention to his customers.
Which suited Kromer just fine. It meant he wasn’t just hovering around their patio table like an irritating gnat looking for something to do.
The patio was another draw to this hole-in-the-wall. You wouldn’t know it passing by the front, but the shop had a set of back patio seating that was practically in its own little world. Due to some architectural misstep, this back space connected through the back door was surrounded on all three sides by other, much taller buildings. Just enough for a square of sunlight to come down onto it from the top at noon.
In anyone else’s hands, this place probably would’ve been relegated to a postage stamp of back storage and brick to sweep out every so often. But the proprietor had actually turned it into a legitimately nice flower garden which doubled as a dining patio just large enough for three tables.
The area was perfumed with the scents of flowers. Bushes of rich red and snowy white roses, prissy pink begonias, cheery butter yellow crocuses, and many many more.
The table that Kromer and Sinclair were enjoying their after-school coffee at happened to be placed next to a planter that was densely populated with deep indigo forget-me-nots. Kromer, who had finished her drink far before Sinclair, was already lolling back in her chair while waiting for him to finish. Not attempting to rush him, just showing her dislike for not having anything to do.
While she tipped onto the backmost legs of her chair, Kromer’s head rolled over the back of it until she came to face some of the further-reaching blooms.
All it took was a spark of inspiration, and the boredom was swiftly chased away by a rush of mischievous inspiration.
Slamming her chair back to the patio, Kromer turned and began to pick through the planter. Stems were parted at their middles, and Kromer’s fingers began to briskly weave them together. Sinclair watched with curiosity as Kromer’s work began to come together in her hands. Twisted about so that the stems were tightly bound while the flowers got to be on full, colorful display.
Until, at last, Kromer’s craft finally sat laid across her hands.
“What do you think, Emil?~” Kromer adorned herself with the flower crown she had just finished making, the soft petals tickled at the tips of her ears and the edges of her forehead where they brushed against her skin. “Does it look good on me?”
“Yeah. I think anything does.” The answer was so abrupt that even Kromer paused to process it. And clearly it hadn’t been intended to be said aloud, because Sinclair clapped a hand to his mouth and blushed. When her thoughts caught up with her, Kromer grinned ear to ear.
“Ohh? When did you become such a charmer, my Emil? She reached across the table and poked at him, making him blush even harder. “Are you trying to butter me up for something later? If you keep that up, I might not be able to hold back when we’re alone~”
“N-no! I didn’t mean to- Ah!”
Abruptly, a brief gust of wind blew through the patio. Closed off as it was, the place wasn’t airtight. There were just enough gaps between the buildings to allow gusts of air to flow through the patio from time to time when the breeze picked up. Which was exactly what happened at this moment. Kromer felt her forget-me-not crown lift up off her head and be flung into the air from the surprisingly strong wind.
It didn’t get far, however. As it was carried only as far as the length of the table before the wind died down again, and it landed in an unceremonious heap atop Sinclair’s head. His hands went up to it, trying to carefully grasp it without damaging the flowers.
“Ah! Here, Eva. I’ll give this back to-”
“No, no~ It’s fine!” Kromer stood up from her seat, and she leaned across the table to him.
She carefully took it into her hands. But rather than taking it from him, Kromer carefully adjusted it where it sat atop his head. Until at last it came to rest much more neatly where it sat.
By the time Kromer stood back, the forget-me-not crown sat perched on Sinclair’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world. She grinned. On him, this simple little chain of blooms looked for all the world like a crown atop the head of a righteous prince.
“Just like I thought. It absolutely suite you~”