Petals
Rionarayne
I don't love her. I love her. I don't love her. I love her. Vice versa: She loves me. She loves me not. She loves me. Damn, that was the last petal.
A normal guy would be at a corner pub now, carousing with a few close friends while enjoying glass after glass of imported Puerto Rican rum. But not me. I instead chose to pick weeds outside my apartment complex and pull their petals off in such a fashion that no matter how many petals were pulled, I still did not love her and likewise, she did not love me.
I'd become so involved with the whole petal pulling process that my peripheral vision failed to detect the lovely human being standing just 20 feet to my right.
Getting the eerie feeling that I was being watched, I finally did tear myself away from the weeds long enough to gaze back at the woman.
An awkward silence ensued. I stared at her. She stared back.
"What are you doing?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Me?"
She nodded.
"Meditating. Flowers are relaxing, did you know that?" I questioned, lying.
She raised an eyebrow. "Really. . ." she remarked sarcastically. With a roll of her eyes, she seemed to put the embarrassment of the situation aside, and smiled as she approached me.
A little fidgety, I kicked away the abused stems and took her hand in mine. "Let's go for a walk," I offered.
She nodded almost skeptically, but laced her fingers with mine.
As we exited the back lawn, I snatched a dandelion and tucked it carefully behind her ear.
********
And then I woke up face down in a bag of cocaine with two policemen standing over me with heavy black flashlights.
Rionarayne
I don't love her. I love her. I don't love her. I love her. Vice versa: She loves me. She loves me not. She loves me. Damn, that was the last petal.
A normal guy would be at a corner pub now, carousing with a few close friends while enjoying glass after glass of imported Puerto Rican rum. But not me. I instead chose to pick weeds outside my apartment complex and pull their petals off in such a fashion that no matter how many petals were pulled, I still did not love her and likewise, she did not love me.
I'd become so involved with the whole petal pulling process that my peripheral vision failed to detect the lovely human being standing just 20 feet to my right.
Getting the eerie feeling that I was being watched, I finally did tear myself away from the weeds long enough to gaze back at the woman.
An awkward silence ensued. I stared at her. She stared back.
"What are you doing?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Me?"
She nodded.
"Meditating. Flowers are relaxing, did you know that?" I questioned, lying.
She raised an eyebrow. "Really. . ." she remarked sarcastically. With a roll of her eyes, she seemed to put the embarrassment of the situation aside, and smiled as she approached me.
A little fidgety, I kicked away the abused stems and took her hand in mine. "Let's go for a walk," I offered.
She nodded almost skeptically, but laced her fingers with mine.
As we exited the back lawn, I snatched a dandelion and tucked it carefully behind her ear.
********
And then I woke up face down in a bag of cocaine with two policemen standing over me with heavy black flashlights.