The shop opened at seven.Muneer had been there since five, unpacking boxes, checking soil, arranging stems. The delivery truck had arrived at dawn with twenty new varieties he had never carried before. Orchids from Thailand. Lilies from Holland. Roses from Colombia.His father would have called it extravagant.His father would have smiled.The first customer arrived at seven-fifteen. An elderly woman looking for marigolds. She bought three pots and told him the shop looked brighter than it had in years.The second customer arrived at seven-thirty. A young man buying flowers for his girlfriend. He had no idea what she liked. Muneer helped him choose a mix of alstroemeria and white chrysanthemums. "Friendship and truth," he said. "She'll appreciate the thought."The young man paid and left.By nine, Muneer had served twelve customers. By noon, he had served thirty. The cash register was fuller than it had been in months. The phone rang constantly. Orders for weddings. Orders for funera