for your prompt request! how about mcmercy? some prompts: eye contact, green thumb, or poetry. Hope you get through your writer's block <3
(thank you you’re so nice I’m gonna rly try i’m sorry if this is rly bad)
Something Blue
Angela has always wanted a garden. Her heels click quietly against the well worn floorboards, the scent of wet earth and roses thick and potent. Perhaps with the time off she has she can lose herself in soil and clay pots, in seeds and pitchers of water so that she would be distracted from–
She bats the thought away with a wave of her hand, her thin fingertips skimming over damp lilies.
“These will do.” She plucked the bouquet of snow white lilies, oblivious to the water she sloshed over her boots and trench coat. She kept walking through the small flower shop, blue eyes critical of every arrangement. “No.” She sighed. “Why are they so difficult to find?” Or perhaps I just can’t find them.
She looked over at where the cash register was but saw no one still, the shop oddly empty for such a lush selection. It was a new shop however, so that could explain the sparseness of customers. Perhaps the lack of apparent employees could also justify the disinterest. She was sure she could walk out with her arms and pockets full of flowers with no one being none the wiser.
“Can I help you?”
The smooth voice startled her, her fingers crumpling the plastic around the stems. She opened her mouth to speak but lost her voice at the sight of the man, his deep dark eyes catching hers intently. He was tall and broad shouldered, shaggy brown hair sticking down and up in odd places. His clothing was streaked with soil and sweat and wrinkled quite hopelessly and she couldn’t help but think of the old western movies her mother used to watch when she was a child.
I’m being silly.
She cleared her throat. “I’m looking for blue flowers. Not violet or purple or fake blue roses. Blue. Like the ocean or the sky–”
He grinned. “I know what blue looks like.” He pushed his hair back with a filthy hand. “Follow me.”
She followed him as he headed towards the very back of the cottage-like shop, trying to peek over his shoulder as he pushed open two large glass doors into–what she presumed was–the backyard.
“I keep the special ones back here.” He admitted, a hint of pride in his voice as he stepped aside to let her see.
“Oh.” Angela faltered mid-step, her eyes sweeping over the impossible richness of colors. “This is…beautiful.” It was not a large piece of land but every inch was covered in thick heaps of flowers, oranges and pinks and violets with shapes she did not know flowers came in.
“It’s not quite done yet.” He shrugged. “Still a few types I’m working on. Others I haven’t had luck growing in this cold clammy weather or with the limited space.” He walked towards a small porch as he spoke, bending down with a pair of rusty clippers in his large knuckled hand. “Even so I think I’ve got what you’re looking for.”
She was fiddling with the closed bud of a sunflower when he was suddenly quite near, the scent of sweat and wet dirt enveloping her. She tipped her chin up–and found his eyes on her mouth, her lips parting like an invitation.
She shut her eyes and stepped back, clearing her head. How long had it been since she’d been so close to anyone?
“The same color of your eyes.” His smile was charmingly crooked.”Here you go sweetheart.” He lifted the bouquet between them and the shock of blue made her give a small gasp.
“Oh. Oh. They’re blue!” She took them eagerly. “Something blue.” Her smile echoed his. “Jack didn’t have anything blue for his wedding.” She murmured, more to herself than anyone. She glanced up at him again–he had to be almost six feet–and let her smile nearly crack her face. “Thank you so much. Here.” She stuffed several bills into his rough palm, trying to ignore the chills that broke across skin at the contact. “You’re a lifesaver, ah…?”
“Jesse.” He filled in.
She nodded. “Thank you, Jesse.” She stepped away. “I’m running a bit late.” She admitted reluctantly, bundling the flowers into the crook of her arm. She turned towards the doors, every step she took stilted and difficult.
“Don’t you want to know the name?”
She paused at his question, her look one of confusion.
“Of the flowers.” He nodded his head towards them.
“Yes, of course.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Who knew when she’d need blue flowers again?
His slow spreading grin made her insides do flips as he moved closer to her, his hand lifting to the side of her cheek. “Forget me nots.” He murmured. He lifted his large hand higher and she felt something wet and thin slip behind her ear–the stem of a flower–and his hand was gone as quick as it had touched her. “To help you remember me.”