Astraea

There was a dim murmur while she added the mixture to the machine. The bowl tilted out of her hands but deft fingers recovered it quickly. Cursing, Rosé grabbed a cloth and wiped away the small mess she created.

The machine continued its faint rumble. Satisfied, she left the bulk of the work to it. She moved towards the sink to clean the dishes and with the water flowing against her skin, she smiled. Outside, the trees were dressed in sparkling specks as the sparse shower cleared.

Throughout the day the weather had difficulty making up its mind. Early this morning the sun was bright and blazing. But near 10:00am a cold wind came in with whispers of disruption and not long after the rain announced itself.

She didn't mind. After popping her head out briefly, the air smelt fresh. The vegetable garden was thirsting for growth and the surrounding forest needed cleansing. Finishing up the dishes, she checked on the machine.

The texture felt correct and upon taste she wiggled her hands in approval. Bouncing, she took another taste and scooped out the contents. Relieved to place it away in the fridge, she hurried upstairs for a quick shower.

As she was dressing she saw that it was nearing 14:30pm. Swinging on her long light brown coat she grabbed her house keys. Pausing to search for her umbrella, she bit her inner lips in wonder. She didn't remember where she had placed it.

Gliding downstairs, she looked in the living room. It took her another ten minutes before being successful. However, she knew she still had some time on her hands. She wanted to head towards the flower shop to find something that would help her say what she wasn't really able to.

Today she was dressed in a crisp black pencil suite. The skirt provided glimpses of long legs. Underneath the thin stocking, she could see the effort of exercise placed in them. It was routine for them to take the same commute at this time.

And in the past, there was an element of excitement to see the other woman. They had never spoken but were aware of the glances, one gave the other. She had wanted to know her name, her story and what brand her suits were from.

However, all those feelings of curiosity dwindled. She hasn't given the other woman more than a nod of acknowledgement for the past eight months. Three days ago, she could see that the woman wanted to approach her with eyes that were asking what she did wrong.

Jennie wished she could tell her that it was nothing she had done. The change was her own and it had proved to be one that she had struggled to comprehend. Though she had tried countlessly, she couldn't figure out when it started.

It just happened that one day her excitement had shifted from wanting to see the other woman to wanting to see the person who would greet her at the end of her journey. The instant she had stepped off and saw that Rosé had changed her hair from blood red to a light pink she knew she was in trouble.

On that day, Jennie found her heart pacing unevenly. Suddenly she was too shy to fully meet the younger woman's eyes. She didn't know what it was but in that moment she actually really looked at the artist.

She refused to place it down to just the hair change because she knew that since the beginning she had found the small acts of kindness Rosé did to make her comfortable endearing. In that instant she really saw how delicate the younger woman's features were.

Deep brown eyes that allowed you to soak in their comfort. Hands that held you as sweetly as the songs that they wrote. Lips that take your attention away because of their plumpness and when they split in to a smile it distracted you further.