A marriage is like a rose; a romantic keepsake having the combination of thorns and petals. The red hue of the petals symbolizes love, and passion and is soft to touch. The thorns that lay on the stem, however, represent adversity and sacrifice.
De...
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The freshly prepared, steaming hot espresso occupied little space on the teak wood coffee table that very well lived up to its name. Vapors of the fluid evolved out from the glossy black mug that matched the dark hue of the coffee poured into it.
Coffee was heaven on Earth, the best possible way to kick start your day. As a coffeeholic, I have preferences when it came to the drink of salvation. A shot of espresso on the way to work and a cup of Americano while at work supplied a great deal of energy. Much to my curiosity, I wanted to try every type of coffee to have ever existed.
Previously living with my parents, I now resided at my new home, brought not less than a year ago when I started my own floriculture company. The startup goal was hard to accomplish, for I refused to inherit my father's real estate company, raging a storm within my household.
But I knew what I wanted.
Unfavorable circumstances were long gone.
I heard from the other end, "Good morning, Mr. Walker."
Ben Jones, secretary to me was a man in his 40s- strict, composed, and valued time like no one else. I frowned at his stiff and professional tone, for I didn't know I shared a formal relationship with my very own friend-turned-secretary. To my loved ones, I remained airy.
I sipped the hot liquid, "Morning, where are you?"
"I'm on my way to your house. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," He bluntly said like a robot operated by a remote control.
My eyes fell upon the garden which remained separated by the long glass panes that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. The reason for the house's purchase was primarily because of my most prized possession, the garden.
I concentrated on the call, "Don't pick me up today. I'll drive to work."
"I will do that, but may I ask you the reason for doing so?"
"I need you to arrange for a meeting with the last week's client."
"Ms. Phillips? That demanding lady?" He asked, irritatedly.
"Yes, I'm going to settle the matter once and for all." I firmly said, before standing up.
The love for flowers and gardening was something I'd acquired from my mother who worked as a florist. As a kid, I'd often see my mother handle the beautiful and well-maintained garden she owned and slowly, I began showing interest in it. What began as a hobby ended up making my career. I loved my mother just as much as I loved flowers. My father had always been unsupportive and against my idea of taking the flowery path.
I didn't have the time or interest to think of anything else, not even a closely related term to flowers- love.
