#a starter...

          apollo grew up in the desert, shifting sands all around and the glare of the sun stretching on forever. he misses it sometimes like a half-remembered dream : the way the heat seemed to burrow into everything, the feeling of almost melting, and the way the sun lay flat and watercolor-like over the horizon. artemisia’s florist shop hardly reminds him of that, with its lush greens and the sweet-smelling humidity that hung in the air, but there is still a certain comfort that lies over him when he steps over the threshold. the myriad of colors is nearly an assault on his eyes.      “ ARTIE !!! ”      he finally comes to a halt at the empty checkout counter,      “ ---- lunchtime !! ” 

          he leans idly against the checkout,  gaze wandering from one unfamiliar flora to another. plants had never been his strong suit, unless you counted the succulents on his kitchen counter which he suspected only lived because he mostly left them alone. eagle eyes spot movement among some ferns --- a sparrow, hopping along the foliage. he whistles once, the bird coming to a halt, head cocked curiously at him.      “ you're going to get stuck in here, ”      he tells it,      “ ---- c’mon. ”      it surveys him with beady black eyes before hopping closer, another pause before it flutters up to settle on the curve of his shoulder and starts to preen. apollo turns at the sound of footsteps,      “ --- been trying to get this guy out of your shop ?? ”