a work in progress like my others.
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Liudvika pulled at her shoulder length dark hair and looked around. A straight, one lane, empty road, baked from black to grey by countless summer mornings and winter snows. Lawn, green, lots of white clover flowers, over grown from the spring’s rain and summer’s sun. Looking above there was a tree, it was short. She sat under it with her boyfriend as they waited for her ride. She turned her face to look at him. She saw her sunburned shoulder, the edge of her green dress, him, the house of a mutual friend.
“You know Lulu,” he said “I had a really good time…” Liudvika looked down at the grass. A rather club shaped blade caught her eye. It was purple, and green like grass but purple-y-er…she sat for several minutes contemplating it. Why was it purple? How can it be purple and green? Wouldn’t it just be brown? “And you make me so happy…” Liudvika’s neck snapped around to him again. He’d been talking and she hadn’t heard a word of it.
“Sorry what?” she said with a sunburned blush and a sweet smile “Sorry I zoned out because of that piece of grass right there” she pointed at it.
He laughed. “You’re so cute” he kissed her hair. She never understood why her lack of attention was mistaken for adorable aloofness. But whatever kept her in company of interesting people was fine by her. They’d only been together a week and she was already loosing interest. He was too sweet and he never ceased to remind her of her high qualities and how lucky he was to have her. It was dull. Her first relationship lasted almost 3 years, the second 1 ½ her third however lasted only 1/2. This was her fourth. She dated for love but she wished the loved less, if she had to work for them she wouldn’t have the over whelming urge to dump them like a brat with old toys.
A bee flew by and landed on her dress. She examined it, black, yellow, fluffy. A little honey bee, sweet like the honey she made. Liudvika held a finger out to the bee as the boy next to her became a statue, allergic, no doubt, to the sting of such a small creature. The little honey bee crawled onto her finger and she safely moved the bee out of his swatting range and onto a rather pretty flower. He slumped into relaxation. He reminded her of one of those toys where you push the button on the bottom they flop over. “Aw Conall, you afraid of a little bug?”
“Hey getting stung isn’t fun!”
“I’ve never got stung. Not since I was six and I stepped on it so it wasn’t the bee’s fault.” She stuck out her tongue. “And we had three bee hives by ours house!”
