The morning shift of the cafeteria ended with an annoyed Yoongi, angry, irritated, about to explode after washing so many glasses before her watchful eye. She sat at the bar and watched him at all times. When he finished, he took off his apron reluctantly, threw it to the ground, kicked it, pushed the back door so hard that it almost made it turn and left grumbling.

She did not do anything to stop him. In any case, he did not like it, and although she felt she should not give up-maybe he liked it if it was constant-she did not leave behind him. She let him go with a sigh. After a while, she heard a slap in the back door that startled her.

Suga appeared again through the door, with white flowers in hand, fresh. He looked at me a couple of seconds and handed them to her. When he saw that she was not holding them, he shook them, and as she turned her head away to avoid seeing him, he threw them at her head. The flowers, white daisies that were curiously her favorites, fell on the marble of the bar. She turned and waved her hair in case some petal was between him, and she bumped into Yoongi near her. He pointed at the daisies with his chin.

- Your ing flowers.

- What lady have you stolen from the pot?

- Shut up, okay? - Snorted - Just take them, give thanks and shut up.

- Please. - She added. Suga clicked his tongue.

- Take them and shut your mouth. By. Favor.

- I don’t want them.

- Don’t be s. Come on, take them now.

- I said I don’t want them, period. Don’t insist, because I won’t catch them. I don’t want anything that comes from a six-foot-five-year-old with broken pants.

He shouted frustrated. He took her hand, the flowers, made her show her palm and planted the flowers on it. Then