Oh Chamomile

Cam never liked chamomile. Rather, he disliked it. Just hearing the sound of that word made him a little uneasy.

"Why is that? What about the flower?" some would ask.

"But I do like the flower. They are beautiful, especially when they are in bloom..." He sighed dreamily, his whisper of a voice carried out . It's true, he did like the flower. Why wouldn't he? As a florist, all flowers were his good friends, and he took pride in that fact, though some claimed it odd. Thus chamomile flowers were no different. They were darling things, much like daisies, with their soft petals of white, growing among others in abundance.

"Do you not like the tea then?" others would inquire.

"Of course I like the tea. It is a natural beverage with healthy benefits. It is also sweet and tastes good in the mornings and evenings. Not only that, but did you know that you can also add other natural flavors and it will taste even better?" he would reply gently. That statement was true as well. Chamomile Tea is very healthy, helping one ease their belly and their anxieties of the passing day. Cam himself will drink it twice a day, once when he awakes, the second time before he sleeps. While he himself prefers to drink it alone for the sake of enjoying it's sweet taste and floral scent, sometimes he will mix it up a bit. Just a little though. Sometimes this is done with a light hint of lemon, other times with a slight dash of lavender. If he is feeling truly adventurous, then perhaps a bit of peppermint, vanilla, or licorice as well.

"Then...why?"

"In spite of what you have said, why don't you like chamomile if you like the tea and flowers?" some would question.

"...Well...um...ohh..." Cam groaned softly, his retort left alone in silence. The light aura that normally surrounded him changed to one of...exasperation.

As silly as it was, the reason why he didn't like chamomile was not the tea, not the flowers, but--the word. Yes, the word "Chamomile". Oh that devious word! Indeed, it was that word with a soothing tone when spoken. That agreeable word that rolls off the tongue in an enticing embrace of a whisper.

But why did he not like the word..?

Perhaps that would be better explained from those few that knew the shy florist. If asked, they would pause, as though pondering about the word, then they would let out a slight, but hearty chuckle.

This intense dislike of the word is because of his neighbor, Mr. Thompson. He is a cafe owner who runs his business near Cam's flower booth. Now please do not misunderstand, just because the source of this dislike did not mean that he didn't like the older gentleman, it was quite the opposite actually. In fact, Cam cares very much for Mr. Thomson, even considers the man as a father figure of sorts.

...But if there was one thing that he wished could change was that horrible nickname.

"OH CAM-MOMILE~"