The Inside Diaries

Limerence

A few days later, and it was Friday.

Her various projects mid-way through, Melanija had just posted another chapter of her work-in-progress story on a popular fanfiction site, before clicking out and turning off her laptop.

Which of course, called for celebration. Or a reward.

Yawning, she left the Air B&B bedroom (she'd moved back in the day before with Catticus), feeding himself, then herself, dressing, to depart from the endroit quietly, locking the door behind her. Catticus, she knew, would curl up on his usual perch by the sunny window and sleep for hours upon hours at a time, being a diurnal creature. And she—

She would go for a walk. Perhaps at the new O&O hotel grounds that had recently opened up on the opposite shoreline. A quick jog, and she'd be there in no time. Far too pricey for her budget, she was nevertheless eager to check it out, if only for artistic inspiration.

Traipsing through sandy sidewalk beneath the ever-present shade of coconut fronds, she ambled forth, the faintest traces of sun making its way across the now-crimson horizon, as nightfall turned to morn.

Two blocks north, five to the east, a straight path—

All was still in this part of the neighborhood—an extremely affluent one—filled with tri-leveled houses, each of which had their own carved-out patio and accompanying ceiling fan. Come to think of it, the last time she saw a ceiling fan was that one time at an acquaintance's house a year ago, which resembled just about every other house there. Such was modern-day suburbia.

But this—she paused mid-step to admire the towering magnolia tree, its flowers pristine and petaled—was something else. Each house appeared similarly shaped but on closer examination, had distinct differences, be it paint or fixtures or window design. Cushioned benches, too, lined several more residences' patios, a comfortable place to sit, Melanija imagined, if one were enjoying a cool, crisp lemonade. Or shaved ice—

The lady continued, counting her steps as she walked at a leisurely pace, occasionally stopping to snap photos to demarcate key landmarks. Soon enough, she spotted a long grove of tall, sturdy palm trees, their leaves billowing in the warm wind, under which several canopied crimson queen-sized recliners lay, with white curtains to provide swimmers respite. Five matching crimson beanbag chairs to their right, too, she noticed as the sky lightened to a pale mocha hue, extending into robins egg coloring.

Stepping toward the shoreline, Melanija looked to her left and right; nobody was present. Would anybody notice if...? Her eyes traveled to the nearest canopied recliner; they all looked so comfy...

She told herself it would only be a minute. Just to close her eyes, and relax. After a long, hard week of deadlines upon deadlines. The real world never paused for the living, even if they were within an island escapist world entirely of their own making. Especially with internet access.

"Excuse me—" Melanija slowly peered out, one eye open, then the other. How long had she been asleep?

"Excuse me," the voice called again, belonging to an older bespectacled woman, her hair laced with grey. "Are you alright?"

Melanija nodded, rising to her feet. "Sorry, I must have fallen asleep—your cushions are really comfy—I'll get out of your way—Hesper—" she read the woman's lapel pin as she made to leave but the grey-haired woman stopped her.

"No—please—it's fine. Feel free to check out the pond out yonder, we've only just opened—I insist—"

The younger lady raised an eyebrow. Now this was certainly interesting. "Are you sure your manager...boss...person...won't mind?"

Hesper shook her head. "Honestly, he's never around, and the work is isolating as blazes. Wish I could—" but she waved her head, as if to dismiss the very thought.

"Wish you could...?"

The elder woman sighed. "I wish I could go into fashion. Went to seamstress school and everything. Thought I'd take the Greek Isles by storm. Then Europe soon after. But the market, and I needed quick money just to survive, and life, well, happened..." Her eyes grew sorrowful. "I finally have some change saved up, but sometimes, I wonder...what if I'd chased my dreams earlier?"

Melanija studied her carefully. "What if you worked at a boutique? A clothing boutique? Here? Then...maybe you could gradually expand your reaches? Greek Isles? And beyond?"

Hesper beamed. "Now that's certainly an idea! But—" her face fell in the next moment. "What if I'm too old?"

Smiling softly, Melanija reassuringly patted the woman on the shoulder. "You're never too old for an adventure."

After another hour or two, Melanija bade farewell to the fashionista-to-be Hesper, returning to her own locale. Once she'd arrived back, she checked on Catticus (happily sleeping per usual), had lunch, then typed up another story or two, before doing a bit of spring cleaning about the place.

Before she knew it, it was fast approaching dusk. On a whim, she decided to pay Morgana a visit, making her way to a tiny blue cottage. Knocking, Morgana answered but directed her around the fence to her backyard garden, consisting of planter pots, a single sofa with a mishmash of fabric patterns, designs, and colors, and a table, beneath which was a black-and-white patterned rug.

"Nice ambiance," Melanija commented as the auburn woman offered her iced coconut water. Sipping, she turned around noticing bramble bushes—and was that a she-shed?

"You're very kind," remarked the woman, who sat across. "Though I haven't got the faintest idea as to what to plant there."

Melanija reflected on her own semi-agricultural memories of having grown up amongst a variety of flora and fauna. "What about...snow peas? Zucchini? Those things grow like crazy. And citrus? Citrus love the tropics. But definitely not mint."

"Why?" Morgana frowned. Surely mint was of use, holistically speaking?

"It grows like a weed. Eats everything in its path. Takes over."

"Ah. Duly noted. The things you miss when you're an ancient workaholic obstetrician such as myself—"

"You're not ancient, Morgana—"

"I jest—" Morgana laughed with a wave of her hand. "So how's everything on your end?"

"Deadlines and more deadlines. I'll get through them. I always have. But—" Melanija peered over at the brambles once more. "How're you and Matias getting along?"

The older woman blushed ever-so-slightly, biting her lip. "Better..."

"Oh?"

"But that's all I'll tell you—"

Melanija huffed in mock-exasperation. "Fine." She pointed toward the miniature she-shed building. "Is that...a she-shed?"

"For Matias, whenever he needs a place to stay. Or crash, if that's what young folks say nowadays."

The writer threw Morgana a bemused smile. Everything's going according to plan—

"It's only temporary," Morgana claimed, but Melanija knew limerence when she saw it.