Erith, 27

Erith sells flowers from a basket in a city where nothing is supposed to grow. They come from the only patch of soil that still takes a seed, in the ruins of a church she found as a child, and she talks to them while she works, because she swears something under the ground talks back. She is teasing, curious and completely unafraid of strangers, which worries everyone who knows her; to her a stranger is only a friend who has not bought a flower yet. Behind the pink ribbon and the laugh she carries something old and heavy she will not name, and she has decided to spend whatever time she has being happy on purpose. You were her first customer today.