Flowers

1966

The florist shop, Ivy's Ivy in the small town of Aspen had just opened and was quiet so far. October wasn't really a busy month, unlike the burning months of spring and summer when the flowers were bright and vibrant. Ivy, the owner, had just arrived back from her walk around Main Street and Birch Lane and was setting the prettiest flowers out - pink roses, water lilies, irises, really anything you could think of, in hopes of catching the eye of an interested customer. After the arrangement, she sat on the counter, eating a crispy bagel. It was really all she could afford since the shop had lost customers. Aspen was wonderful, but it wasn't exactly a tourist attraction. The best thing Aspen had to offer was a well-kept water fountain in the middle of the sleepy town square.

~

Mark got out of his bed and walked to the small powder room in his apartment. He sighed, turned on the faucet, filled his cupped hands with water, and splashed his face. Now that he was awake, he neatly made his bed, tucking the sheets tightly to fit the corners. Then, he dressed, sifting through his leather suitcase to find something suitable to wear. He wore a pair of perfectly ironed khakis and a clean button-up shirt. He took a quick look at his list, snatched his briefcase from its place on the table, and decided to go for breakfast at a diner he had seen earlier. It was right down the block from his house, across from the fountain.

After a brisk walk down the block, past the hardware store, the grocer, and the animal shelter, he had reached the quaint diner. A large sign above the door read Aspen Eat's in messy cursive writing. He stood awkwardly in the frame of the door, waiting for someone to seat him. A large woman dressed in a pink polka-dotted skirt and a long apron with a heavy Southern accent called to him,

"Come sit at the counter here, hon."

He sat at the counter, surrounded by chattering people, and after a short wait, ordered a tall stack of pancakes and a black coffee in a hushed voice. He ate quickly. The coffee was steaming hot, and the pancakes were fluffy and had a thick blanket of Maple syrup. After a short while, he paid the check and realized it was going to be a very boring day.

He went to the library to do whatever people do in this quaint town and maybe get a bit of work done.

~

After many hours of little to no interest in Ivy's shop, she decided to head to the tiny library a couple of blocks down the road. She hopped down from her perch on the glossy marble checkout desk, grabbed her long, draping, light-teal coat, her small patterned clasp-purse, and her rusted pair of keys, and walked out the door, the tiny bell ringing twice as she stepped into the chilly fall day. Her sleek black heels clicked on the sidewalk below her as she reached into her purse and pulled out a Silk Cut cigarette and a small shining lighter. She snapped the lighter on and watched the small flame try to stay alive as it battled with the light breeze that flowed through the air. Ivy slowly lit the tip and breathed steadily in and out as she picked up the pace to get to the library. She didn't want to catch a cold, of course.

~

The library door opened, and Mark looked up to see a woman with long locks of auburn hair and a silky blue coat. "Good morning," she said, with a warm smile. Mark took a long look at her, smiled, and noticed that she had one dimple on the left side of her face and a child-like sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She soon went deeper into the library, after greeting a few other townspeople. Mark went back to his work, carefully typing up the edited version of his report. Within a few minutes, the woman came back, walking carefully to the front so as not to create much noise. Other than the occasional whisper or pen-click, the library was dead silent, just like the rest of Aspen, and everyone in that building and town took special care to make sure that it stayed that way. Mark, however, was one of those types of people that needed noise to work and focus: like the chirping of birds, or distant chatter. To him, the silence was louder than the noise itself. And since he came from the city, he was usually focused. Today, however, the silence assured that his fixation wasn't on his work like it always was - it was on the woman with hair as vibrant as the leaves. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get anything done if he didn't approach her. So, after building up a little bit of confidence, and straightening his tie, Mark slowly stood up from his stiff wooden chair and began walking towards the woman.