He took her hands. They smelled of rosemary and earth.
He laughed, a rusty sound. “Is it that obvious?” City of Love - Lesson of Passion
He sat among the roses and hydrangeas, watched her pour steaming water into mismatched cups. She asked no questions about his work, his grief, his cynicism. Instead, she told him about the language of flowers: how a yellow tulip meant hopeless love, how rosemary was for remembrance, how a single camellia could whisper you are my destiny . He took her hands