The first thing that comes to your mind when I say small town is everyone knows everyone. Of course you are right about that but if you ask me, it's a routine.
Some people are messy like the florist down street. Who wants something new everyday, her hair changes colour every month and her skill set increases every year. She changes her style everyday and has different bouquets for every morning and every night. The girl is a living embodiment of spontaneous.
Somehow she is changing in a never moving town. The way she lives is a mystery to me but there is one thing that never changes in her. The way she expresses her mood using her flowers. She is known for her jewelry.
I am her first and the most loyal customer. Every morning, after my morning hike in the mountains to watch the sunrise, I pick up some of my favourite that have fallen the day before and give them to her. The way she weaves and Co ordinates the most peculiar and opposite flowers baffles me, her talent has no bounds and she owns it. Her small business is known world wide but she sells to only a few particular people she chooses making her a luxury brand.
For this towns people, her price is as normal as can be but for the outside, she gets payed in millions. The woman's rich rich.
Now thats one kind of person in this town. The other is our residential author. Now he is one masterpiece.
The man wakes up at sharp 5am. Takes a walk to the top and reaches just in time for the sunrise. We have crossed paths a few times in the early morning and the conversations are one of a kind. They range from politics to philosophy. He knows a little about everything and strangely a lot about murder.
If anyone is not known by everyone in town, it is him. He keeps to himself and talks to only a specific group of carefully chosen people. His career is not as flourishing as my favourite flourist but his books are best sellers.
Out of the 16 he wrote, 5 have been so good, they were sold out for 6 months straight. It then slowly went on a steady pace so now his income is just a side job, a hobby because the money he earned by those 5 books are enough to support him for a lifetime in this tiny town.
I have been to his house twice recently and let me tell you, the way its built, I could spend a lifetime in it, just wandering and using every inch of it. The house is huge to say the least. His entire family lives in it. Everyone has their own room on the lower most floor. The first floor is only for his work, each room is filled with random things for inspiration and there is a small room where he writes. The forgotten manuscripts and pages of quiet lines buried in his heart, lie scattered around to compile into one single book.
I have read every word of every page he wrote and have discussed every character that lived. For him, though his world wont change, he changes his world. A new reality in the midst of each book like a portal to a world he creates. The silent power he holds over something that is not real but feels right, is not only admirable but also rare.
His daily schedule, however, is not a dream. Every morning after his walk, he writes a chapter or two. Then some breakfast at the cafe 2 streets away and meets the daily customers there. I skip my breakfast but every evening, just a few hours after lunch, I go there for a nice coffee break. It has the world's best desserts. The chef has actually gone to the world famous culinary school and works at a high end restraunt. Every month or so, he visits for a day and introduces a new dessert.
Everything on the menu is delicious but Mr. Author only wants his usual coffee and muffins. There around 15 flavors of muffins and he changes them periodically in 2 weeks, leaving his weekends to devour the special dessert that arrives. After his breakfast, he goes to the flourist and gifts her his handwritten letter/note. Those private words, I have never read but that after blush and the sweet smile that lingers, I have noticed. She gives him a flower, different everyday. Just a single one that he takes and places in his study where he writes.
Their sweet, colourful, vintage love story is like a daily symphony. It's been a year since they have started this but the crush started all the way back in highschool. When the two most different people ever, realized, their little enemies drama had become a bit too endearing.
Aesthetics cuz why not?
her:
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