My Mania Ended The World Peace. ★

⋆ 1 ⋆

.   .   . before all, before the first splash of crisp water clashed with his backside—refreshing him from the heat but no less annoying him—before that and when the guys came crowding around him, his name was simply Adrian Deigh and his life was simple, then it all kinda got easier.

The reason it was always simple was Adrian Deigh's mum, who worked in a florist shop by the corner, always smelled of the freshest flowers currently in season. Today it was Forget Me Not's, bunch of two-coloured blue-and-yellow flowers that grew together in a cluster, never die alone, can't.

And there's not much smell to Forget Me Not's, actually, so she smelt of nothing much today.

Debora Deigh herself was a quite simple woman, she worked 9 to 5, kept her house clean and tidy, her wardrobe loyal to the colours black, dark and primary red, and most importantly; let her son smoke at home whenever the first drops of red wine made a spill into her favourite bulbous wine glass.

The gurgling sound it made, as the liquid whirlpooled at the bottom before it steadily raised towards the top, could be followed up to his room which was his signal for chaos.

She always had her own way of doing things. Sometimes those things were just quirky, other times she seemed outright possessed.

And really so when she tipped those bulbous glasswares towards the ceiling, as if an angel was just randomly floating thereby to kiss it, Debora tipped the glass to her lips, which were all occupied with nude lipstick before the wine washed it away.

When that happened Adrian usually strolled from the living room into his room, turned up some music in his stereo and knew after ten songs it was time for the first cigarette of the day.

To the sound of rap he smoked, silver trails running to the ceiling and the crummy taste setting on his tongue.

Debora Deigh, his mother, was laughing by then, at 8 pm which was the happy hour of the pub close to them, downtown of Brooklyn.

Her merry laughter was shadowed by the familiar chorus of laughter coming from the TV. For a moment Adrian wondered what exactly she was laughing at, was the scene in the Friends episode really that funny or did the influence of alcohol help her tip that way of silly? Then his senses concentrated back to the bouncy beat of the current song, nearing its end.

One time when he was nine, Debora Deigh did something totally wicked. She brought him down to her flower shop and let him explore all those different bouquets and small somethings that sat on those dark wooden shelves.

And while he was busy with that, Debora went on her tiptoes across the shop, creasing up the front triangle of her black dress shoes.

And all the way up towards her black bob-cut hair, there was her stockings, pencil skirt to go along with it, and the flesh coloured blouse too, with rose patterns.

Roses were in season then and Debora loved those most so she didn't shy on using her spare collection of coloured clothes with roses on them.

She had plucked a petal from a bundle, with which she disappeared behind the counter, and Adrian was by now watching her and how she glided the tip of a ball point pencil over, with very smooth gracious gestures, before she stabbed the pencil back into its sleek black holder and returned with the petal delicately placed on her veiny palm.

She held it under Adrian Deigh's nose. On it it read with blue ink that bleed into the severed skin of the flower:

Your sister died today, sweetheart.