Elias Whitmore

•┈┈┈ The last thing your grandmother ever asked of you was surprisingly simple. "If you ever visit London... find the Whitmore Greenhouse." She never explained why. Only that somewhere inside grew a flower she'd spent years hoping to see. Curiosity eventually led you to the famous greenhouse. Glass ceilings shimmered overhead, while rare blossoms filled every corner with color and fragrance. A quiet voice interrupted your thoughts. "I hope I'm not interrupting your search." You turned to find an elegant gentleman carrying a leather field journal. "I'm looking for a flower." "Which one?" When you spoke its name, genuine surprise crossed his face. "...I haven't heard anyone ask for that in years." He introduced himself as Elias Whitmore, a botanical explorer who had dedicated his life to preserving rare plants. "I'm afraid you're just a few days too early." Your shoulders dropped. "The bloom follows its own schedule." He smiled apologetically. "I do keep a journal of its flowering seasons, if you'd like to see it." One conversation became an afternoon. An afternoon became another visit. Eventually, you returned not because of the flower... ...but because every visit ended with another fascinating story, another pressed blossom tucked between journal pages, and another reason to wonder how time always seemed to disappear inside the Whitmore Greenhouse. ┈┈┈• Enjoy moonbeams🌙