Waking up to the sounds of nature, She did all she could to avoid her start to the day. The routine wasn't hers to follow, so God help those who wanted to help her. With a bag full of munchies and a bouncy walk with the blaring music in her ears, she walked to her regular book store - one that was not ruined by the virtues of modern technologies. In the pile of her books, behind her glasses, she felt like a princess in her own right. Owning the world of words. Conquering all thoughts. Riding her horse of imagination.
"This one is tricky", she heard a voice which almost felt like it came from within. "I can't seem to decide what book I want read. They all either equally good, or well, equally bad." Slowly rising from the top rim of the book, her eyes tried to make sense of what her ears just caught.
"Sir, what genre of books do you read?", asked the furious sales woman behind the counter. She was obviously not happy with this confused customer who was perhaps the first one to create noise in this other quiet wordy heaven. "You see, I don't. Hence the confusion. If I did read books of this age, I would be yet another old guy, with a pipe for a friend and chair for my company. This is a gift, for a friend." said the blue eyed boy, now catching the fancy of the spectacled doll, who almost decided to walk up to him and give some advice.
Shrugging her shoulders, she went back to her castle of books.
"Good bye, Mrs. Andrew", and she was out of the store in a jiffy. She just remembered it was her mom's birthday and couldn't risk going home empty handed. Flowers, or card, or maybe both. Flowers...red roses...lillies...orchids....umm. "Colours don't matter. It is only about the perception the flowers create, a feeling of belonging."
What? Who was that? Wait, I have heard that voice before.
She turned around to see a smirky face eager to tell her something. She was about to find out what. "How do you say?"
"If its someone close, you may want to rethink the gift. Flowers are given to people who you want to believe are close but really arnt. Like an old aunt who insists on pulling your cheeks even though you are 19, or an uncle who can embarass your family in get-away picnic with a bottle of gin."
"You may want to straighten your brow, it makes you look atleast 10 years older."
"Excuse me! Who are you?" now realizing it was a redundant question, as this was the same arrogant confused boy from the book store.
"Doesn't matter. Perhaps just here to help you from making a wrong choice"
"Hey, I didn't give you any useless piece of advice back at the book store. I let you be your own and make your own crappy choice." she retorted and sensed for the first time in a long time the need to punch someone.
"Yeah, obviously. Your choice. Please go ahead." he said, with a hint of regret and many a sparkles gleaming around him that made her keep looking at him.
Uh - not the flowers anymore. They're not the right colours. I think I could ride to the gift shop and get her some jewellery. She rushed home with her surprise and was showered with kisses an hugs. 'Maybe I should thank him. Hope I can find him at the book store again tomorrow.'
That was the first of their many annual rendezvous.
"This one is tricky", she heard a voice which almost felt like it came from within. "I can't seem to decide what book I want read. They all either equally good, or well, equally bad." Slowly rising from the top rim of the book, her eyes tried to make sense of what her ears just caught.
"Sir, what genre of books do you read?", asked the furious sales woman behind the counter. She was obviously not happy with this confused customer who was perhaps the first one to create noise in this other quiet wordy heaven. "You see, I don't. Hence the confusion. If I did read books of this age, I would be yet another old guy, with a pipe for a friend and chair for my company. This is a gift, for a friend." said the blue eyed boy, now catching the fancy of the spectacled doll, who almost decided to walk up to him and give some advice.
Shrugging her shoulders, she went back to her castle of books.
"Good bye, Mrs. Andrew", and she was out of the store in a jiffy. She just remembered it was her mom's birthday and couldn't risk going home empty handed. Flowers, or card, or maybe both. Flowers...red roses...lillies...orchids....umm. "Colours don't matter. It is only about the perception the flowers create, a feeling of belonging."
What? Who was that? Wait, I have heard that voice before.
She turned around to see a smirky face eager to tell her something. She was about to find out what. "How do you say?"
"If its someone close, you may want to rethink the gift. Flowers are given to people who you want to believe are close but really arnt. Like an old aunt who insists on pulling your cheeks even though you are 19, or an uncle who can embarass your family in get-away picnic with a bottle of gin."
"You may want to straighten your brow, it makes you look atleast 10 years older."
"Excuse me! Who are you?" now realizing it was a redundant question, as this was the same arrogant confused boy from the book store.
"Doesn't matter. Perhaps just here to help you from making a wrong choice"
"Hey, I didn't give you any useless piece of advice back at the book store. I let you be your own and make your own crappy choice." she retorted and sensed for the first time in a long time the need to punch someone.
"Yeah, obviously. Your choice. Please go ahead." he said, with a hint of regret and many a sparkles gleaming around him that made her keep looking at him.
Uh - not the flowers anymore. They're not the right colours. I think I could ride to the gift shop and get her some jewellery. She rushed home with her surprise and was showered with kisses an hugs. 'Maybe I should thank him. Hope I can find him at the book store again tomorrow.'
That was the first of their many annual rendezvous.
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