I walk down the street, turning to the corner which leads directly to the job where I have been working for the last 20 years. I always take the same road and see the same people with the same frown faces who rashly step somewhere. It is odd to meet these people over and over again, yet do not know who they are. There is only one person whom I talk to on my way to work - Harold. He runs the flower shop by the corner, greeting me every morning. I do not know why he picked up this business even though he does not get any profit. Nobody buys flowers, not even for funerals. In the parallel world, they attribute it to the happy occasions where people are allowed to laugh. But there in my world, we are unallowed to smile or laugh. These flowers stay untouched, prevailing good times of the past which were faded out by the darkness of today. Nobody tried smiling since then and nobody tried laughing. I think people have not tried to take any actions because they are afraid of the unexpectedness of the future.

On Friday 13th of 1993, I went to work as I ordinarily do, seeing the same frown faces. However, as I turned down the corner, I did not note Harold. On the door of the shop, a tablet with the text “Closed” was seen. It was unusual to be closed at that time. The only time he was not at his workplace was when his wife died. That day he closed the shop and went to the basement sitting all day long there. I harshly took my phone to recheck the calendar, merely confused in my mind.

“13th of February” 

I realized it had been a year since Lily’s death - Harold’s wife. I was worried for Harold. I called him, but he did not answer the phone. Therefore, I decided to go to the shop. Even though it seemed to be closed, it was not. The door was unclosed, and I entered the shop. Everything was at their places, except Harold. I knew he spends quite a lot of time in the basement, so I went downstairs. As I was stepping down through the staircases, the luminosity from the basement was becoming brighter and brighter until some spark had not exploded, suffusing the room with the whitest glow. This made narrow my eyes, fending my head with my arms. As the bright light finished emitting, I opened my eyes to see Harold in front of some flowers. That flower was unlike others - gigantic, massive, and yellow.

Harold, what are you doing? Harold? - I kept screaming. 
 

But he was not responding. I stepped to him, trying to grasp his hand so that we could go upstairs. However, he was standing as a frizzed figure. When I looked at his face, I saw what I have not witnessed in my life - a smile. I twisted my face off him and stepped back. I got scared because I did not know what would happen to me now when I saw a smile prohibited in this world. The inner battle in me had taken place, arguing whether I should help Harold  — my old friend — or just leave him to be punished for illegal activity as smiling. My inner voice that had been hoping for a better place with smiling faces and happiness overweight the fear of unexpectedness and the fear of being punished. I ran towards him. He was still standing as if hypnotized. From my observation I understood the yellow flower was bounding him, making him smile. I have never seen a smile nor have I experienced happiness. As I wanted to cut this flower, my eyes fell directly upon the center of it and I froze up. I could not move my legs anymore, yet I could feel how my lips were moving upwards, forming a smile. With my hands, I touched my face until they also got frozen up. That is it. I got frozen up as a cement statue. I closed my eyes and thought I was dying. As I opened my eyes, I landed in a shiny place where I saw Harold and Lily, serenely smiling and laughing, happily circling under an elm tree. I started running to them, halfway screaming and smiling. I was happy. But, suddenly I understood it was an illusion. Everything turned black. I am dead. I died never knowing what happiness is.