Night in the Herb Crate

Climbing up from that eucalyptus bucket, my boots hit the rustic slats of the florist's top tier where the night chill couldn't reach me. Tucked into an upturned cedar crate was a thick bed of dried lavender stalks tied with rough jute twine. Perfect VIP greenroom for the after-hours shift! I hooked my red loop around a rusty staple in the wood to stay anchored, then burrowed boots-first into the fragrant purple bundle. That dry herbal scent wrapped around my fuzzy hood like a customized cloud. With one mischievous chuckle into the dim street glow, I kicked my heels back against the cedar and let the night rhythm fade down.