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WHO: Antonio and Ivan
WHEN: Monday August 31st, Afternoon
WHERE: Garland's Bouquets
WHAT: In which Antonio comes for flowers, and leaves with a job.
He felt terrible.
No. Terrible was the wrong word. He felt SICK. He felt ill and nauseous and everything in between. As if he was ready to faint from high fever and upset what little substance remained in his stomach onto his beautifully polished tile floors (he probably scrubbed the first layer, as he could see his own reflection in it now.) He had a broom clutched in his left hand, the leather glove groaned from the tight grip, and he was prepared to mop up any mess that his body threatened to make. He was expecting a guest, so the shop had to be exceptionally clean.
His sunflowers - his beautiful sunflowers - had fallen victim to Sclerotinia. How could he be so careless? Spending all that time at his practice instead of taking care of his flowers... and, and a part of his heart felt like it had been ripped vigorously from his ribcage when having to dispose of the dominantly brown, limping flowers. For a while Ivan swore he was seeing the world in Sephia tone until he returned from the alleyway, and was greeted by the pallete of colors.
Monday was always a slow day, he assured himself... in fact, Antonio was the only customer he expected, so it wouldn't hurt... just to sneak out back to the alley for a quick cigarette.
WHEN: Monday August 31st, Afternoon
WHERE: Garland's Bouquets
WHAT: In which Antonio comes for flowers, and leaves with a job.
He felt terrible.
No. Terrible was the wrong word. He felt SICK. He felt ill and nauseous and everything in between. As if he was ready to faint from high fever and upset what little substance remained in his stomach onto his beautifully polished tile floors (he probably scrubbed the first layer, as he could see his own reflection in it now.) He had a broom clutched in his left hand, the leather glove groaned from the tight grip, and he was prepared to mop up any mess that his body threatened to make. He was expecting a guest, so the shop had to be exceptionally clean.
His sunflowers - his beautiful sunflowers - had fallen victim to Sclerotinia. How could he be so careless? Spending all that time at his practice instead of taking care of his flowers... and, and a part of his heart felt like it had been ripped vigorously from his ribcage when having to dispose of the dominantly brown, limping flowers. For a while Ivan swore he was seeing the world in Sephia tone until he returned from the alleyway, and was greeted by the pallete of colors.
Monday was always a slow day, he assured himself... in fact, Antonio was the only customer he expected, so it wouldn't hurt... just to sneak out back to the alley for a quick cigarette.