Our Bloody Flowers

Chapter 2: Routines and noise nuisances

Adam was almost running to the bus stop, half panting as he was confused and angry. His friend struggled to follow him, several meters behind him. They had their driving licence but it was more convenient to take the bus back to work. Already having gained a few minutes on their break, they were not going to bother with the horrible traffic of this city either. The bus was not his preferred means of transportation, but it was well served. Too noisy of course. The thought of getting back to home tonight was enough to keep it going all day. He did everything himself. From the boxes to the full move, he took care of his little house on his own. His friend Mathilda had insisted on helping him but he refused because she was messy. He knew that very well because they were roommates during their studies and the beginning of their working life. Adam had saved every centime and taken a credit to buy his house. For her part, Mathilda had recovered the apartment and transformed it into a mystical space for her future shop. In the meantime, Adam had agreed to display her merchandise in his shop and she used to make a little money off of it. She was also cleaning in the morning at big companies.

"He was a nice guy anyway" She exclaimed as the bus arrived. "Very helpful and attentive. It changes the bosses at work. They barely look at me. No really, I found him very nice and pleasant."

"Do you like him ?" He replied, sitting in the middle of the bus, near the second gates.

"You're really blind, my word" She laughed. "You're the one who has caught his eye!"

"Huh? Nonsense, you're losing your mind. He was so annoying."

"Well, perhaps a bit traditional, but he wasn't mean. Have you seen all his little attentions for you? When was the last time you slept with someone?" "Mathilda" He sighed. "I don't know, I don't count the days."

"What? You, the great and meticulous organizer Adam Grims, did not count the days?"

"No, Mathilda. I don't give a shit about counting that" He said coldly. "Mind your own damn business."

She patted him on the shoulder after a burst of nasal laugh that had surprised the people around them. Adam tensed automatically, closing his eyes as if he was trying to bury his eyelids in his own skin. The noise and touch were quickly unbearable but he bore Mathilda's nuisances. He met her in his second year of university. The classic story of an eccentric clinging to the introvert. She had made him fly from the nest to adapt to noisy environments while respecting his limits. He would have preferred the world to adapt to his needs and not the other way around. But he didn't have much choice and even if he didn't like it, Mathilda had made it easier. More bearable and acceptable. More "listen to yourself and tell me if it becomes too complicated".

Over time, Adam had taken confidence even though he looked like the local grumpy guy. He didn't have all the social codes, but enough that we wouldn't bother with him anymore. And Mathilda often took over when he didn't know what to say. Adam was hiding behind her when they were out. She would not always be there to make the conversation, a concept that always eluded him, but he still took advantage of it. He couldn't care less about the weather, the bland stories of the neighborhood, the obligatory "yes I'm fine" in all circumstances when no, he's not okay. So Mathilda was speaking for him. She always put the right intonation, the right dose of comeback, the false smile that everyone knew how to do except him. Mathilda was good at things except for tidying up. Adam could boast of being the king of the organization. Each object was in its place and he drew great satisfaction when he passed his finger on a piece of furniture without any dusty trail coming. So yes he was a bit inflexible on some things and Mathilda would say that he was too much but it was part of the routines of his life. To touch his routines was to completely disorder him. If we added to this too much external stimulation, he was sure that a crisis was waiting for him and that the slightest small incident of no importance would turn into a mountain that he would fall at full speed, crushed by its heaviness. So he lived his life.