"𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐃
𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔
𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍
𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄"
{ in which an outsider searches for a place to belong and finds it in the place he least expects }
• • • • • • • • • •
Started: Wednesday 25th April 2...
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Work hadn't been this quiet in a long time. In a way, I was glad of it because it gave me time to relish in the sweet aroma and vibrant colours of my cherished flowers. The sun was shining and filtered into the shop, lighting up the room and creating a warmth that I could bask all day in.
At exactly midday, the bell jingled above the door and I glanced up to see Patrick Collins swaggering in with his hands hidden in his jacket pockets.
"I'm guessing you're not here to buy flowers," I said, becoming instantly irritated upon seeing him. I knew that he'd be round to wind me up at some point. He got his kicks out of it.
"I might be," he replied, but I doubted his words. "I thought we could talk about your new friend."
"My new friend?" I echoed, confused.
"Hmm... Edgar Bailey. He's an interesting fellow, don't you reckon?"
"What's it to you?"
"Just making general observations, that's all."
"Observations with motives," I said darkly. "I know you're up to something."
A smirk crept onto Patrick's face as he leaned against the counter. Whatever he was about to say wouldn't be good.
"Do you want to know what I think?" He asked.
"Not particularly, no," I responded nonchalantly. "I didn't even know you could think without a brain."
Patrick scoffed, but chose not to reply. "I think that you're only interested in him because his daddy owns a big, world-renowned business."
"Oh, you've done your research, have you?"
"You could say that. There's all sorts of newspaper articles in the library that I've been rifling through. And it's not hard searching up a person's name and credentials on the internet. You should try it out sometime; it's wonderful."
"No, thanks. Don't you think it's bit strange to be stalking him?"
"Like you say," he shrugged. "It's research."
"It's still strange-"
"A London journalist, known for his formal and rather intriguing articles, from a wealthy family shows up in a remote village. He expects everything to just disappear. But a man like him with his personal and professional history just doesn't fit in to somewhere that hasn't had an exciting turn-out since the the murder-that-wasn't-a-murder in 1965... Hey, you should read some of the stuff he's written. It's fascinating."
I paused, taking a deep breath.
"Well, you know what I think?" I then retorted, slamming the scissors down on the counter. "I think you're definitely jealous and that you're trying to make Edgar's life a misery. He came here to get away from people like you."
