The words cut her throat on the way out. Not because they didn’t paint a happy, warm picture, but because she could still see it so clearly in her head. That first time her father had placed his guitar in her hands she’d been so small, so fragile, and he had been a stranger…her adoption so new…the idea of belonging to a family a foreign concept to her mind. Those first chords he had showed her had changed her whole world, and the happiness of that moment contrasted sharply with the knowledge that her father was gone now.
"Um…I guess I’d say both," she answered, tilting her head in thought. "I mean…I don’t care much about being a rockstar. I’d like it to be my career though, I’d like to make a record and play shows and share my music with people. But if I spend the rest of my life doing covers at bars and cafes, I’m okay with that too."
Nick's grin mellowed into a pleasant smile. "See," he replied, pointing lazily at her. "That's the kind of answer which genuinely makes me believe the arts won't sink and die with the coming years. This generation is full of dreams and enthusiasts, but to see them dreaming and enthusing for the love of their craft..." He shook his head. "It's just nice to know it's not all about the fame and people knowing your name."
He chuckled and moved his foot through the sand absently, thinking of how nice it must be to have something anchoring you down, even something that seemed so simple. Looking up, he said, "You must be really good, then."
Notes: Nick spends a slow afternoon enjoying the rain.
Extra Notes: Sorry for the delay! I've been a bit busy.
Lucas Melek
Lucas rolled his shoulders as he looked at the man confused for a second when it seemed that he knew him. He knew he was not good with faces but not recognizing someone that lived in this town was on the ridiculous side, even for him. He should have at least have a name for this face. He looked around for a moment, thinking that he was not the only one around and that someone had come from behind him. His confusion deepened when it was only him. He felt like a wet dog so he must have at least looked close to one. His hair was wet and so were his clothes. He looked down at himself and ran his hand through his hair, shaking some of the water out. A black dog. That was what he was; a black stray.
Looking at this man closer he tried to think of something to say but he was caught by the way that he spoke. It was almost poetic in a way. He was comparing people to the land. It was a good comparison to say the least in his mind. He could imagine people packed close together as they formed the outer edge of a stone or cliff. Then when the rain appeared, they started falling, sliding away, one by one. People did seem run away and scatter when the rain started. He knew why in Greece. The rain was always cold. Now, it was nothing more than a calming effect on him, no matter how annoying it was to be in wet clothes.
He was about to open his mouth and reply when he added something about bushes. He opened and then closed his mouth, looking at the other man confused. “I…” he started, not sure what was really happening, “I am not the person who called about the bushes.” Lucas was starting to wonder if this had been a bad idea after all. He could have at least waited to see him talk. Lucas had his doubts about how many people lived in this town that had an accent like his own. It seemed very unlikely to him. However this person was confusing him the more he talked. First he acted like he knew him and now he was asking if he called this place earlier about shrubberies.Why would I even want a bush he thought annoyed, wanted the person who talked poetically back rather than the rude person he could find on the streets without much trouble.
“I just need flowers…” he paused trying to describe what he wanted. “White or purple or both. I do not know actually” he sighed.
It was the first time he actually placed himself in some sort of community and though it was not Greek, it was better than nothing. In DC he had just coasted through the year. He went to church and went back to his apartment. He did not get to know anyone because he did not want to know anyone. Orthodox was different from what he knew, Greek Orthodox. Today was a day where he was supposed to give final thanks to theTheotokos but unlike many people in this parish, he was having trouble with everything in English. He knew the words in Greek and how a Greek would give thanks but there were things still missing in translation for him. One being the flowers. He knew flowers were supposed to be near the icon in Greece but he had failed to pay attention last year to see how it was generally celebrated. Part of him still knew he needed the flowers, at least to settle his own qualms. Even if it was not a big deal in this country, he could still at least pay some respect today before going on his way.
“Do you think you can help?” he asked with a sigh.
Nick Bennett
Nick stepped off of the wall with the intent of walking into the shop, expecting this potential customer to follow along. However, seeing the perplexed and perhaps somewhat irritated expression that he held, he paused. ‘Maybe he’s in a rush. Or he's just socially anxious,’ he thought, chewing on his lip thoughtfully as he listened to the guy’s attempt to describe the type of flowers he wanted. He chuckled. “So, basically, you have no idea what you’re looking for? That’s fine. Shopping for flowers is like a trip into your own heart, in the strangest of ways.” He walked over and opened the door, then held it open for him. The little silver bell chimed when he pulled the door open, and he peered inside. Meredith wasn’t around in the showroom, but he could see the old nursery caregiver’s straw hat in the back window.
“If you don’t know what you want, then you just go to what seems pretty. You let the life speak to you, not thinking about what you might or might not want. They tell you that. It’s like the colors and shapes attract you and you just know...’this one, I want this one.’ It’s pretty cool.” He chuckled, and let the door close once the customer had walked inside. The bell chimed again, but Nick didn’t pay it much attention this time. Meredith was still nowhere to be seen, so he quickly decided to just walk around with the guy until he found what he wanted.
The boutique was set up like a massive indoor garden, with back rooms which were open to the sunlight, and outdoor atrium which was open to the elements in general, and the nursery out back that housed all of the growing plants. Nick preferred the showroom, which they stood in now, to most of the other places. It was all varying shades of wood, from the floor to the walks to the ceiling, and shelves of flowers and plant life rounded the room, with little potted palm trees and the like in the corners. Meredith’s favorite seasonal pieces were on small display boxes in the center of the room, and the wall behind the checkout area was dominated by pots, vases, and ribbon one could purchase. Nick thought it was a brilliant set up, all of it, and not just because it made him feel like he was at home instead of at work.
“So, we can just walk around and I’ll show you all of this” he began, gesturing around. “And specifically the white and purple flowers you’re looking for. Do you have a certain occasion in mind for them? Usually, I can’t help with picking out flowers because I didn’t devote my entire life to them or whatever, but I think I have a pretty good artistic eye for these things.” He chuckled and walked over to the center of the room, where a crate of purple accented bouquets were arranged in plain vases. “I don’t know why, but violet roses are really popular right now. I think it’s because the teachers are going back to work and people like sending them things? Honestly, I prefer the purple lisianthus. Not just because it isn’t a pretentious as the rose, but also because its origins are fun.”
Nick picked up a vase and turned it so that one of the flowers in question could be clearly seen. “They speak for themselves. They are so beautifully elegant and handcrafted by nature in such an intricate, delicate manner that - if you look to hard, of course - can lose its beauty over time. It makes sense when you realize they’re prairie flowers. They prairie itself is the same. Beautiful and so graceful, but over time it can grow much less, more tiring.” He smiled, fully enjoying being able to share some of the knowledge he garnered over the weeks with someone. On slow days, he liked to read up on the plants, and when Meredith grew tired of hearing him harp on them, he turned to the customers. Most of them never cared, but he didn’t talk for anyone else’s entertainment anyway.
Callie watched the progression of his hand to his pocket with a smile on her face. “Thank you for having pity on me, kind sir,” she stated with an overdramatic curtsy. The blonde was used to these conversations with people. One missed out on a lot of staples when they grew up in careless foster homes, and by the time she’d been adopted Callie had developed a preference for quiet activities like reading or bird watching, and hadn’t really been interested in the movies and tv shows that others her age had so cherished.
She nodded at his question. “My dad started teaching me when I was eight, so at this stage it’s less of a hobby and more of a lifestyle.”
Nick grinned. While the idea of such a lovely memory, having been taught something which was obviously so important by someone who must have been equally as important, stung in contrast with his own memories, he couldn't deny the second-hand sentimentality it caused.
"Wow, really? That's...impressive. Has it taken you anywhere big, or is it just something that you derive unrivaled joy from?" he asked. "I could be talking to the world's next big rockstar..."
Callie laughed at his feigned outrage. “I’m fairly certain I’ve broken about six different laws of pop culture. I haven’t seen a lot of things, actually. The incredible part about the Star Wars thing is the fact that I’ve never watched it though my brother is obsessed.” She lowered her head in feigned defeat. “I suppose you best call the cops on me then. I must pay for my hideous transgressions.”
Smiling and tugging at the leash a little when her dog began to attempt to pull her away, Callie bounced on the balls of her feet. “It’s not as bad as I expected. I was worried she’d try and chew on my guitars, but those are the only things in the apartment she doesn’t touch.”
He reached into his pocket, pretending to remove his phone to place the call, but instead laughed heartily and shook his head. "Maybe next time. Consider yourself on probation." While he wasn't a die-hard fan of any of the big pop culture phenomenon himself, he did find it incredible when people said they had never seen things like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. Then, he reminded himself that pop culture was the least of some people's concerns.
"Guitars?" He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Do you play?"
Farrah shook her head and laughed. “Crocs? God, I’m beginning to feel my lunch come up again, but that’s probably because I just ran, either way, ew.” To her surprise, he was far less stranger than she had thought minutes earlier. Coming up to him was a feat in its own; considering the reputation that particular park had for loiterers.
“Guess you’re right. Though I gotta be honest with you, when I said monthly I really meant yearly. This whole,” Farrah brought a hand up to swipe her forehead clean of any sweat. “running thing never works out in my favor. I usually end up in worse shape.”
"To be perfectly honest, I only run when I have to. Therefore, I salute you for doing it by choice. Even if it is, ah, yearly." He made the salute motion, then laughed. While he typically looked healthy enough, he avoided voluntary exercise like his life depended upon it, and wasn't too full of himself to admit it.
"I dunno, I think it pays off. Most people who only do it when their guilt makes them look like sacks of potatoes with feet. And cankles. You don't really resemble that."
"People look at me funny when they hear me going "Eowyn sit. Eowyn don’t jump up on that." Personally I think her name should be "Too cute for my own good." It’s a mouthful but it works." Callie glanced down at her pet with an affectionate smile. "I’ve never had anything more than a goldfish before her so I’m still getting used to the whole ownership thing."
Callie smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “My roommate had to explain the name to me. I’ve never ready any of the books or seen any of the movies. I think she was more horrified about Lord of the Rings than when I told her that I’d never seen Star Wars.”
Nick stared at her for a moment. "You.. You've seen Star Wars since then, right?" His tone carried mock outrage and shock, but the smile that replaced the blank stare made it clear he was only joking with her. "I mean, if not, we need to call the police or something."
"Anyway, I can see where the need to get accustomed to having a little life to care for would come from. Goldfish are... They're not dogs. They're like plants that move of their own accord, basically."
"So I guess you should thank me then, huh." Farrah stepped forward and reached for the bottle, her lips curving into a smile as she took it from his hand. "Thanks."
"I’d rather be bitten by a snake than do that. Wool socks and sandals are two things that should never be on the same foot at the same time. But hey, this is just my monthly run; you won’t catch me out here again until late October at the earliest."
The idea of a monthly run was perhaps almost as absurd to Nick as the idea of a yearly run. Then, he quickly reminded himself there were no absurd ideas, only perspectives which made them seem a little less that effective. After all, he knew taking time out for exercise was admirable. Usually.
"Geez, fashion forward, then? I guess woolen socks and Crocs is a big no-no too, then..." He laughed, thinking that he himself wouldn't even consider wearing anything like that. "Oh, well, a monthly run isn't nearly as bad for you," he added, still chuckling.
She was tempted to ask him to pinky promise just to add to the amused absurdity of the interaction. But he seemed to be looking at her dog rather warily and Callie wondered if he perhaps wasn’t fond of them, so she kept her distance. The puppy was blissfully unaware of the conversation, sniffing around the grass as if it held all the secrets of the world.
The way he suddenly huffed made Callie jolt suddenly in surprise. She wasn’t sure if she should answer the question because he sounded like he regretted asking it. Adjusting her grip on the leash, she glanced at the Shiba Inu puppy. “Her name’s Eowyn.” Laughing at the name she shot the man an amused look. “I let my roommate name her and she loves the lord of the rings.”
Nick wanted with all of his will to continue finding the dog and its presence to be horrible and uncomfortable, but upon hearing the name, he couldn't stop the amused grin which spread across his face. It wasn't just a funny name for such a cute dog, but it was a cute name for a cute dog with a cute back story behind said cute name. "It seems fitting." He chuckled.
"Ah, Lord of the Rings. I had a, ah, friend who was obsessed with the films, but absolutely hated the books. I didn't understand it, but he was a strange one all around." As he said the words, Nick internally berated himself for being unable to escape bothersome topics. 'At least she's not irritating or boring. It's not all bad.'
He looked a little old to be hanging out at the children’s section of the park. Then again she was a little too old to wear footie pajamas and she was way too fond of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Callie didn’t have much room to judge. He raised his eyebrows when she approached as if he expected her to chastise him, and she found that amusing, wondering if he often got chastised.
Olive eyes were bright as she returned his smile. “Shh don’t tell anyone. My telepathy is my secret superpower. You could jeopardize my world mission if you blow my cover.”
"Oh, I see. You're one of those people. Lucky for you, I'm not one to rat you out. Your secret is safe with me." In a way fitting of the childish nature of their banter, he crossed his fingers over his heart in a little x. "Promise." He laughed and shook his head.
At that point, ignoring the puppy became almost impossible. He huffed suddenly and rubbed his eyes with his hand. "What's the dog's name?" he asked, sounding rueful of having even asked. "It's kinda cute..."
“I don’t normally approach strange men who talk to themselves while sat on a merry go round, but I left my water bottle right where your leg is and I’m kind of really thirsty.”
Farrah said breathlessly as she placed a hand on her hip. Having just finished a run, she was in desperate need of a refreshment; particularly one that was currently tucked beside the playground equipment. “Seriously, though, I’m dying over here.”
Nick hadn't see her walk up to where he was, and upon looking down, he realized he hadn't been aware of the water bottle lying beside his foot either. "Jesus. If it had been a snake, it'd have bitten me," he muttered as he picked it up.
He held it out to her, smiling slightly. "Yes, I've heard exercise is a dangerous thing. It's better to sit around and get out of shape than to run around and die, you know. Maybe trade your tennis shoes for some snazzy, wool socks and sandals?"
"Eowyn, this blade of grass looks the same as all the others we’ve passed. We aren’t going to find a magical blue piece of grass for you to pee on. Just do your business already." The puppy, of course, ignored the peeing of it’s master, and Callie sighed as she cast her olive gaze around the park. She’d stuck to the stretch of field adjacent to the children’s area since it was empty and there was no chance she’d disturb anyone.
But then she realized that it wasn’t empty. Her eyebrow quirked at the man’s request to be pushed, and while she wouldn’t bring the dog over into the play area, she moved close enough to the edge that she could be heard. “Psychokinesis or the ability to clone yourself. Either would work.”
Nick had noticed the small, blonde person walking with a dog - he cringed upon noticing that - but hadn't really pain much attention to her approach. After realizing she didn't intend on drawing any closer, he raised his eyebrows and waited for whatever she had to say. Maybe she was going to fuss at him for being in the play area? 'Repelling the children, perhaps...'
Hearing her suggestion, he grinned. "You must be telepathic, then. That was my second choice, and first thought, too."
"What a hell of a day..." Nick sat on the edge of a playground merry go round, absently kicking his sneakers into the sand to move the piece of equipment, and himself, in slow, uneven circles. He could see a few people lingering in the park, near enough to hear him and perhaps notice that he was only person occupying the children's play area.
He sighed. "Someone come push me!" He didn't expect an offer, or even much of a reply, so he chuckled and sighed once more. "If I was blessed with psychokinesis, this wouldn't be a problem, now would it?"
Notes: Nick spends a slow afternoon enjoying the rain.
Extra Notes:
Lucas Melek:
America was nothing like Greece. The culture was not the only difference that ate at Lucas as he watched the rain scatter in the sky; the weather bothered him as well. Rain was falling in August. Rain was not supposed to fall in August. Even light falling rain like this was a rarity in the heat season. The weather was supposed to be sunny. The weather was supposed to be hot and drive people into the shade. Not into buildings to hide from the rain. This rain was warm. It was not cold like the rain in February. Yet people below him were still running from the wetness in the air. They did not want their perfect outfits to be wet. He wanted to call down to them that it was just water and it would dry yet he had no place to talk at the moment. He was seated comfortably under the balcony that hung above him. He remained dry and could sit outside and watch the streets as they slowly turned vacant say for the cars that drove by.
Looking down at his phone, Lucas sighed as he stood up, taking the empty glass with him. He wanted to bring flowers to the liturgy today and as it stood, he still had none. The process would require him to go out into the rain, which did not bother him so much; it was the fact he would have to interact with other people. He wanted today to just be a day where he read and drank. That was something he could do without much trouble. But walking outside ran the risk of getting stuck in a conversation that he did not want to be caught in. Or someone he had met over the course of his time would be out. He could hardly refuse to talk to someone he knew or refuse to listen to them talk. They would just cut into his personal time. He had spent all week working. Translating. Reading notes and letters that were intercepted. Determining if a threat was there or not. It was not that he hated doing that, he just hated being second guessed by people who could not even read the script. Are you sure? He hated that question. Are you sure? The only response that kept him out of trouble was Yes. Yes I am sure. He turned on the sink and let the water run through the cup, taking the leftover wine with it down the sink. Why would I not be sure of what I was translating? He thought to himself as he dried the glass and set it next to the empty sink. Maybe they do not trust me he concluded to himself as he grabbed his keys and bag. He needed flowers for today and now seemed to be just as a good as any.
The rain fell and touched his hair, his clothes, and his bag. It did not bother him as much as it bothered other people. The water was warm and almost calming as he walked through the streets. Luck was with him as he walked and no one he knew seemed to be out that knew him. Blank looks and worried faces about the state of their clothing were all that he met outside. Stopped under an awning he ran his hand through his hair, shaking the water out of it as best as he could as he surveyed the area. He only had a vague idea where he was going and that vague idea was not helping him as he searched down the street with his eyes hoping to catch something familiar that reinforced that idea that he was going the right way. With nothing confirming his notion he took out his phone and started searching the area for a flower shop. The only thing he cared about was that they could give him the flowers today. He stared at the dot for a moment before locking the screen. Apparently he was closer than he thought, just not recognizing any of the places that he saw. Putting the phone back in his pocket, Lucas started down the street again, keeping to himself as much as possible and avoiding people and their looks.
When the store came into view his felt his heart sink as it looked as though the place was closed already with someone already standing outside smoking. Either he was on break or he had just closed the place. The last thing he wanted to have left his apartment just to be told he had left too late from his apartment. Letting out a sigh, Lucas decided he might as well ask rather than turn around and waste his own time and be wrong. He always seemed to be wrong in this country, in this city, in this new life.
“I am sorry but is the store closed?” he asked, stepping closer to the building to get out from under the rain.
Nick Bennett
Nick had decided that he didn’t want to go back into the shop anytime soon, and that the loneliness he was feeling deserved to be indulged with standing in the rain and watching people walk by, not bothering to share a hello with him, or vice versa. It was a childish game to play, he knew, but something about extending his own emotional anxieties - those he saw as irrational and pointless - made him feel like he was putting them to good use. Exploring one’s own thoughts and feelings was best done by drowning in them entirely, and he wanted to do just that. Well, after he had finished leisurely smoking the cigarette he held now, of course.
As he gazed down the street, first left and then right, he noticed someone walking with a different sort of purpose. The guy looked deep in thought, and yet also a bit bemused by things. ‘Perhaps he’s not used to rain. Which is really weird because it rains often enough here, I guess. I dunno, maybe his cat died or his grandma ODed last night.’ He shrugged and continued watching, thinking of all the possible places he could be trying to reach in the rain. This particular street had a lot of odd-end places on it, like a toy store, a grocer selling only organic foods, and a lot of thrift shops. Meredith’s place fit in because it was a the posh version of the average gardening store. And, that was the thing. The stores were all quirky in the way that they were relatively expensive for the uselessness of the items they sold. ‘Because flowers are pretty useless - let’s honest, Nicky.’
His thoughts drifted to the gardens that he had enjoyed so much in France years before, how they were hidden behind walls in the countryside and were filled with bright purples and blues, and so he didn’t initially notice that he had been approached. At least, not until a voice pulled him out of his own mind and he turned suddenly, looking at the person with surprise. Without much thought, he exhaled, “Oh, you.” He quickly realized it could have implied he thought he knew the guy, but didn’t care enough to back it up with a simple, not that I know you. Of course, the idea that this stranger might assume he meant something like that was almost as ridiculous and rambling as Nick’s own considering of that outcome. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, processing the question and those thoughts at the same time.
“Closed? No. Might as well be, though,” he replied, dropping his hand. He looked at the cigarette he was still holding for a brief moment before glancing back to him. “The rain repels people, eroding away their presence by some natural inclination like it erodes away the by-chance placement of sand and dirt and soil...” He shrugged. “Anyway, yes, we’re open. Do you need help with something?” Nick expected him to say he did need something, because it seemed unlikely that he would have asked had he not. ‘Unless, of course, he’s just a strange one like that.’ He pressed the cigarette into the brick wall, snubbing out the end of it, then tossed it out into the street.
“If you’re the guy that called about those bushes, I can assure you we won’t have them in until May,” he warned as the thought came to him. “If you’re not that guy, then disregard that.” He smiled, wondering just how confused the guy might end up being. In his experience through the few weeks he had been living in Annapolis, the people who entered the boutique in search of flowers and potting soil and kiddie vases weren’t very keen on him pouring out his thoughts and ideas to them as he went about carrying their purchases and pointing them to the items they wanted. In fact, one kid had asked him if he “was high or something?” when he went on a soapbox about the unnatural aesthetics of using red flowers in the spring. To him, of course, it seemed like a perfectly normal conversational piece. Did flower enthusiasts care about what looked good in their gardens, and when? Nick himself could have cared less, but it was something Meredith talked about a lot, and so naturally he had formed his own opinions.
Notes: Nick spends a slow afternoon enjoying the rain.
Extra Notes: Consider this a formal hello to everyone from myself - Dolly, I am - if you will. Also, I apologize for threading format in advance (I don't know what the prevalent style is here yet) and assure anyone who would like to reply to this that it is not required at all.
Outside, a slow summer rain was pouring down onto the sidewalk, slipping down the windows, and filling the drains. The old man who tended the nursery during the mornings had groaned and put up a fuss to Mother Nature, claiming that the water would drown the plants, ruin all his hard work, and put them out by at least a few hundred dollars. Nick, though, thought he was overreacting and being a special brand of annoying that left him wanting to start an argument. He had put in time with the flowers, yes, and enjoying tending to them from time to time, but he was almost certain the rain wasn’t going to drown the them, or perhaps cause an early doomsday. If anything, they would be getting well-needed water. ‘Besides, it’s not like the old grouch actually cares about the flowers... No ridiculous emotional bond to them or whatever the hell else might be “bonding,”’ he thought as he went about carrying carrying bags of potting soil and crates of vases.
Perhaps because of the rain, or perhaps simply because it was the end of August, late afternoon, and a generally non-busy day, but either way business within the shop was slow. No one was there requesting bouquets in obnoxiously pink-and-green colored vases, children weren’t trying to uproot the decorative grass which grew in pots around the showroom floor, and no one was shopping around for potting soil and “those little seeds I bought a few months back?” So, Nick sat on the counter, kicking his feet absently and watching the rain fall outside, as well as the people skittering around with their umbrellas and newspapers.
Internally, he was considering the validity of some words an old friend had spoken. It seemed so long ago, almost like he was looking through a tunnel blurred with the strain of time and scarred with regrets he couldn’t quite place. He recalled a garden not entirely unlike the one visible through the screen door to his right, but with maybe more vines and less lilies. It had been lightly misting, the air had been hot and heavy, but it had been a beautiful evening. If he had to guess, Nick would have said they were on a high of some variety, and that they were talking about missed chances, broken opportunities, and what it meant to be human, running at a fast pace with too many steps. The words were simple, but the impacted him greatly as the escaped the lips of his best friend in the whole world. “Opportunities walk past you like some cocky bastard wanting to pick a fight... You just have to ask yourself, ‘am I ready?’”
Nick knew a lot about opportunities as this point. He knew that they came and went like pieces of paper caught in a strong gust of wind, and that if you stood still, they would never come to you. He knew that by nature, they could be sweet or bitter, or maybe even just bittersweet. While simple, weightless entities, he was almost frightened by the wide array of outcomes an opportunity, a chance could bring - missed or caught. It was like trying to pick a star in the sky; too many choices to take, too many chances to be wrong, and too many good things on which one might miss out. No matter what a person did, they always had one foot in the hole. It was a strange thing, and it only reminded him more just how blurred the lines surrounding regret and loss could get.
Seeing Meredith emerge from the back room, he thought of the beautiful, life changing opportunity she had so generously and suddenly extended to him. He could barely stand accepting anything from her these days because he felt like there was some unpayable debt between them. He knew he couldn’t mention that to her, though, because like any good person, she felt the need to tell him it was “alright,” and that he was “fine, perfectly fine.” More often than not, it left him feeling wistful and unsatisfied, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he busied himself with flowers and painting, and sometimes watching people pass down the street to make up imaginary stories about their lives.
After waving to Meredith, he hopped off the counter and began walking outside, reaching for the crumpled packet of cigarettes and his brand new lighter as he did so. Once outside, he propped himself against the brick front of the building, one bright, white shoe against the brick itself, and looked out at the street, which was still being gently bathed by the shower of rain. ‘That’s the thing about these gentle rains...’ he told himself as he almost absently went about placing the cigarette between his lips and lit it. ‘They’re nice and slow, but they last for such a nice, long time...’ He sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Lonely...’ came an absent thought, drifting from his subconscious, which may or may not have been contemplating the idea of being alone in this new, quaint town, aside from Meredith who truly didn't count outside of the boutique despite her efforts.
WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER WHEN YOU ARE IN A BAD MOOD?
As corny as it sounds, I've actually started to enjoy working with these flowers. It's oddly relaxing, perhaps because it's just tending to them and arranging them in "pretty" vases.
Flowers, Man. @nick--bennett - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
