Nov 02, 2010 20:55
The Koneko might be closed, but there's lights on in the workroom of the shop. Just off screen, a low voice hums off key, soft scraping noises and the low whine of a dog marring the offset tune. Off to the side of the table lay several colorful flowers; purple hyacinth and amaranth, plus a single red carnation tossed on top of the pile along with some assorted greenery. Every now and again, a hand moved into sight and deftly snatches up a stem here and there, shifting through the stems to find the right one.
apology,
koneko,
hates the city,
thinking with his hands