❛ SUPERMARKET FLOWERS ♪ ❜ - z. herron

one: the f train.

I've always liked the train.

I like the fact that everyone has to take the same "path" to get to different places. All these completely different people have one thing in common, they all take the subway and the exact same train. Right now, I'm taking the f train to go grab some flowers for my mom. It's her birthday tomorrow, and of course, it slipped my mind but luckily, her favorite flower shop is just a few blocks from my favorite book store. I've wanted to grab a Song of Achilles for so long and now is the perfect opportunity. I grab my journal to create a list of what to get. My journal is like my baby. It's covered in stickers of places I've been to, want to go, or randomly found. Inside, I tape pictures, write down poems and errands I have to do for the day. It's like my notes app but tangible and makes me feel like more of an "author" so I never go anywhere without it.

Okay, so, I need flowers, a new book and- 

I'm interrupted by a boy sitting right next to me. Honestly, if he sat any closer, he'd literally be on my lap. I look up and then look back down acknowledging his presence but not paying attention to him per se. Okay, so flowers, a new book and-

"What are you writing?" He blurts. 

I looked at him, "What?"

"What are you writing?" He repeats. He's wearing two chains that don't necessarily dangle but they aren't chokers either and a cross dangling earring peeks out from underneath his beanie. His cheeks are flushed and he has this thick north face on, probably because of the snow. It's early February so the snow had to show up. 'Tis the season to slip on black ice. But the thing that really catches my eye is his. Brown eyes are so average and normal but somehow his eyes make them look like they are the most unique feature on a person. 

Oh shit, I've been staring. I've been so in my thoughts about the snow and his eyes that I didn't realize I was checking him out, or at least looked like I was.

I shake my thoughts to answer his question. "Oh, um, why?" I ask, confused.

"You seem super into it," He states matter of factly. Sometimes, Keagan says I do that, but I just thought it was a little brother thing to do to piss me off.

"Yeah, uh, I get that way when I write, I guess," I state.

He cocks his head "You're a writer?"

"NO, sorry, no, I'm just writing down groceries." I let out the driest laugh. I wonder what I did for someone to think I was approachable enough to just talk to.

"Oh, well, you know you look beautiful today," He then flashes this huge smile, toothy and all. I've grown up in New York City. I've taken possibly every Brooklyn-bound train but never have I had anyone this hot hit on me. Usually, it's either old guys when I'm in the city or drunk college kids.

"Uh, thanks I guess." I look back to the book splayed in my lap. I pick up my pen and continue writing. New book, flowers, and-

"So what do you want to buy?" He asks, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

I say without looking up, "Just a new book, flowers, stuff for dinner, you know the basics."

"Is there a certain book you want to get?"

How in the kindest way do I say, "I don't want to talk to right now. I literally don't know who you are."

"Oh yeah, this Madeline Miller book," I reply, still acting like I'm writing in order to show how uninterested I am. 

"Circe? Galatea?" He presses. 

"...the Song of Achilles, you like Madeline Miller?" I ask, confused as to how he knows so much about my favorite author. I'm not one for judging a book by its cover but he doesn't seem like the type to immerse himself in greek fiction. 

"Nope, my best friend does." He points to the tall boy standing with a book in his hand and the other latched onto the pole, so he doesn't fall. His eyes are glued on the book paying no attention to the 3 boys sitting in front of him. The boys are all looking at something on one of their phones, all so unbelievably focused. Occasionally, one of them will groan or they'll whisper something at it each but for the most part, their eyes are glued to the screen. My guess is an NHL game, possibly the one that Keagan ditched me for, leaving me alone on this train.

I curse him internally as I look back at the brown-eyed boy,  "Oh cool," I glance back down at my handwriting to see the same list I've been trying to write. 

"So..what's your name?" He asks, trying to make conversation.

I groan, "Dude. I've been trying to write this list for the past 10 minutes, but I keep getting interrupted by a certain somebody. So just give me a few." He looks at me, blinks, and simply goes "Oh" and looks down at his phone.

Maybe that was a little harsh, but I'm sure it didn't come off as super mean...hopefully.

*

With two stops left, I finally have a finished list. It reads, a book, the flowers, and all the ingredients to make my mom tahdig, her all-time favorite dish. My stepdad was Persian and made it for her the entire time she was pregnant with my younger brother, so needless to say, she was obsessed. I slip my book in my bag carefully, put in an airpod, and press a random shuffle. It's playing that one boy band's, why don't we, new album. 

At least, I think it's their album. Laila, Keagan's girlfriend is in love with them, so he's been trying to learn their lyrics for her. Music plays in my ear, "Ooh, We did it for the hell of it, We did it for the good times and the bad ones." This is the one Keagan has been playing on repeat; he cannot get the lyrics for his life but will try and scream it around the apartment.

I start humming along, but the boy next to me catches me. "You like that song?" he asks.

"It's my first time hearing it in a while, but yeah it's good,"  I say, trying to process what he just said to me. 

 "Alright," He says, giving me the biggest smile before looks back down at his phone. I shake my head, trying to compute the conversation. 

I literally didn't think he got weirder, but I guess I can always be corrected. 

As we approach the stop, I grab my bag, slip it over my shoulder, put on my gloves, and readjust my jewelry. As I go to stand up, the boy grabs my hand. "Well, since you like my song, don't I get the decency of knowing your name?" He smirks.

Not wanting to show him I'm stunned, even though my eyes are probably showing it, I simply say "I'm Kira." and walk away.

Wait, what the fuck did he mean by his song? 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

word count: 1237

okok first chapter 

don't forget to comment & vote!

much love

~nish