Bouquet Invasion 5 (Written by ChatGPT)

(The following is the result of a collaboration with AI, based on parts 1 through 4)

Bouquet Invasion 1
Bouquet Invasion 2
Bouquet Invasion 3
Bouquet Invasion 4

I sent a LINE message to my sister saying I have a date with my boyfriend tonight.
The plan is to grab some snacks at a stylish izakaya under the train tracks that I've been curious about, then head to a beer bar.
My sister says, "You can't go wrong with that plan." She gave it her seal of approval. I've only been dating him for a month, but I feel like I like him a little more every time we meet.

The seashell earring on my ear matches my sister's. They're different colors; hers is white, and mine is pale purple.
They're made from small shells we picked up on the beach. A little handmade memory.
I don't wear them every day, but for some reason, I wanted to wear them today.

I hope he notices them at some point.
It would be even better if he said something like, "That's cute."

We've only been dating for a month. I don't know what will happen in the future yet.
But I like him. I really do like him.

I sometimes think about whether we'll get married.
Maybe we'll build a warm home together? He's a civil servant, you know. It's stable, and
I'm sure he'd help out with the housework. He seems sincere, serious, and he's a good listener.

I don't want to work. I don't particularly like this part-time job either.
I've tried to make myself like it, but I can't remember the names of flowers at all, and
honestly, I feel most at ease when I'm just rearranging the flowers in the refrigerator.

If he asked me to be a housewife, I'd probably say yes right away.
And maybe have two kids. Travel occasionally, and have plenty of time just for the two of us.
I want that kind of ordinary, but truly happy life.

I write in a diary on the calendar. Ever since I came to this flower shop.
Or rather, I'm told to keep one. It's like a condition of employment.
Since it's a calendar, I can't write that much, but
it's surprisingly easy to see "what I was thinking" or "what I was doing."

At first, it was a hassle. But habit is an amazing thing.
Now, if I don't write something down, I don't feel like the day is over.
Even if it's just a few lines, I feel like a single sentence in my diary keeps me together.

Sometimes when I flip back to previous pages, I think, "Wait, did I write this?"
I have a vague memory, so it must be me. But it feels ambiguous, like it's about someone else even though it's about me.
The handwriting is definitely mine. But the tone of the writing feels a bit different.

I happened to open a page from a few months ago and saw it was written in red ink. That's rare.
And it was a single phrase in bold, like a title.

"Bouquet Invasion"

What is that? I wrote it, right?
The handwriting is mine, too. But I have absolutely no memory of it.
What does "invasion" mean? Did someone tell me to write it?
I think it was probably an instruction from the manager.

I've never met the manager.
Apparently, they work as a school teacher and don't usually come to the shop. Because they can't have a side job.
It seems like they just inherited the shop from their family and are only a manager in name.

If I clip a letter to the clip by the purple artificial flowers, I get a reply the next day.
At first, honestly, it was creepy, but I'm used to it now.
Once you get used to it, it's actually easier. Much better than talking directly. I learned they were a teacher through this exchange, too.

I call the manager "Sensei." They probably don't know my name either.

For now, I have no complaints, the pay isn't bad, and I've never thought about quitting.
It wasn't exactly my dream, but I don't dislike being surrounded by flowers.
That's all there is to it.
That is my current "normal."

"Bouquet Invasion," or whatever, it makes no sense, but there's no point in worrying about it.
I'm not free enough to think about such difficult things.

Tonight's date. The summer festival I'm going to. Marriage with my boyfriend.
I have so much to think about, I'm busy.

Thinking about difficult things is pointless anyway.
Yes, I am properly busy.
I'm living my life properly to be happy.

But lately, I feel like my memory has gaps.
Like a hole, it's empty.
I can't remember what I was doing.
Where I was, or who I was talking to.

But I've never been in any danger, so I'm probably fine.
It seems like I'm doing just fine.

It just feels like it happens a lot when I'm at the flower shop.
Is it just my imagination?
I mean, when I'm at the flower shop?

Wait, my memories only exist when I'm at the flower shop.
What does that mean?
Things about my family, memories with my boyfriend, hanging out with friends—they should exist, but I can't remember them.

Why?
They're nowhere. They're just not there.

I definitely have a date with my boyfriend today.
I know that. There's no room for doubt.

But where did the memories of my dates with my boyfriend go?
There's nothing.

Do they only exist in this space, the flower shop?

I don't get it.

My phone pings with a LINE message from my sister.

"Take off your glasses."

Glasses? Mine?

Glasses, I am indeed wearing glasses. The sizes are different on the left and right. I suppose that's the design; they're my favorite glasses that my sister gave me. Sometimes people say, "That's unusual," or "The asymmetry is trendy," but I liked these glasses.

Taking them off just makes things a little blurry. I wondered if there was any point in taking them off, but my sister is always right. I've always done as my sister said. If I don't follow her, I lose the reason for my existence. So, I will follow her instructions. I took off my glasses.

It's like being swallowed into a whirlpool; my head is spinning round and round.

Does taking off my glasses really make me spin this much? Am I stupid? I feel like I'm going to collapse from dizziness. It feels like something is falling apart. What are these glasses?

But I won't put them back on yet. It's my sister's instruction, and in this spinning world, I have to find something. If it comes to it, my sister will help me.

My vision seems to be glitching constantly. Even though my eyes are open, the world is blurry, shaking, and distorted. The flowers, the watering can, and the calendar all look like they've split into several pieces, and because they're slightly offset, I can't tell what's real.

Where is the focus? I wonder. In the bright shop, the light blurs, and the back of my eyes ache with a throbbing pain. Without being able to grasp anything, I could no longer hold it in.

If I keep spinning around like this, I will lose my mind. I will go insane.

I can't take it anymore, I thought, and as I went to put my glasses on, the dizziness suddenly stopped.

I stood frozen in the shop, as if nothing had happened.
I was panting.

My legs were unsteady, but I was standing surprisingly well. In my hand, I held the glasses I had taken off. I was too scared to put them back on right away.

I felt like the right lens of my glasses was slightly clouded. What happened in this short time?
I put on my glasses, trembling.
The usual world. My vision stabilized, and the soft lighting of the flower shop entered my eyes gently.

I look at the shop only through that right, clouded lens. Within the cloudiness, lights are floating vaguely.
Lights?
Once again, I cover my left eye and look into the flower shop with only my right eye. Countless lights are drifting there. Like souls, swaying.
I got scared and immediately opened my left eye. Then, it returned to normal. It's the usual flower shop.

When I look at the shop again with only my right eye, the lights are indeed drifting. Quietly, but surely.

This time, I look into the flower shop only through the larger left lens.
It turned pitch black.
I can't see anything. A bottomless darkness that feels like it would sink forever. A pitch-black, empty world that seems to see right through the scenery of the flower shop created by my delusions. If I keep looking, I feel like I'll be dragged in. I get scared.

Which one is the real world, anyway?

My phone rings. Even this phone might be an illusion.

“Did you take off your glasses?” a LINE message asks.
“I took them off,” I replied.

“Did anything change?”

And besides, who is my sister?
The face of my sister in my memory is blurring. I can't even remember her voice.

Only the purple artificial flowers and LINE connect me to the world.
My sister is contacting me. The LINE notifications won't stop ringing.

My sister, and even the teacher, might be illusions.
They might be delusions I created.

Come to think of it, since when have I been wearing glasses?
When I noticed, I was already wearing them.
All my Instagram photos show me wearing glasses.
Have I been wearing glasses since I was born?
That can't be right. But I have no memory of taking them off.
Memory?

That's fine, you don't need to think about anything. I felt like someone said that.

I was the only one in the shop, but someone said that to me. That voice, I had heard it somewhere before.
Who could it be? Why does the voice of someone I've met echo in my head?

I felt like I wouldn't find an answer even if I thought about it too much.
There shouldn't be any mistake in following the instructions.

──The door opened, and a customer arrived.

I say, "I want to make a bouquet."

Casually, I closed my left eye and looked.
What was there was a large sunflower.

In a panic, I open my left eye.
An old man. He has a beard and a gentlemanly air.
Was that just an illusion?

Once more, I close my left eye and look at the man with only my right eye.

It's a sunflower, after all.
Light is spinning around it at incredible speed, and that light is tracing the outline of the sunflower.

The sunflower says, "I want to make a bouquet."

Make a bouquet—right, I must make a bouquet.
I exist here to make a bouquet.
I hold red flower shears.

Around the sunflower, I use the flower shears to trim away the excess parts indicated by the light.
The scent of flowers intensifies.

I don't need this, I don't need this part—my hands move naturally, as if saying that.

As I trim it away, in the end, only the sunflower remains.
For a first attempt, I managed to leave it well.

I simply dug up the sunflower that was buried.