Sunlight shines through the window, illuminating a bright kitchen. Inside, a woman dances around her kitchen; flour decorating her apron while she rolls out her pie crust. Blue syrup seeps into the newly laid crust as strips are placed on top creating a blue and tan checkerboard. The women then places her dish in the oven to cook.
The smell of blueberry pie slowly fills the woman ́s house. It bounces off of the white walls and dances with the light stained wood. A sigh escapes the woman's lips as she wraps the pie in tin foil and set it next to the window. Throwing on her burgundy coat, she leaves the house with her pie in hand. A light breeze throws her wavy silver hair around. The smell of freshly fallen leaves and the sound of birds chirping consume her as she walks down the street. She stops at a house, a few down from her own, and rings the bell. While waiting, she takes in the house in front of her. Worn down paneling adornes the structure, it's brilliant blue color has since chipped away, making the house a lackluster gray. The windows are grimy and the weeds in the front are overgrown. The rest of the property was enclosed with a tall fence. The woman tired of waiting, sets the pie down on the front stoop and walks back to her house.
She remembers what the people in town told her about him. Several years ago, the man was drafted to fight in the army. During his service he sustained severe injuries and was honorably discharged. He was sent to get medical treatment back in the US and was eventually able to return home. He came back to town with his head wrapped in bandages and no one has seen him since. He hasn't left his house since his initial return about 30 years ago.
In an attempt to get her dish back, the woman returned to the man's house again a week later. Much to her surprise, her plate was sitting on top of the man's welcome mat freshly washed. A little thank you note laid inside.
The woman walked over to her kitchen and took out her trusty mixing bowl and spatula. Not long after, the sweet smell of baked goods once again filled her house. She once again rang the man's doorbell, this time placing a chocolate cake down instead. Once again, a week later, her plate lay in front of his door with a little note inside.
One day, when the woman was dropping off her latest creation, she noticed the gate around the man's house was open a crack. Curious, the woman peeked her head to look inside. A gasp left her lips as her eyes filled with wonder. Dark green tendrils climbed up the sides of the fence created a lush and shadowy feel. Two small cherry blossom trees stood in the back of the garden; their bright pink a sharp contrast against the ivy. Underneath pink lotus flowers swim in a coin shaped pond. Bright clusters of white, pink and the occasional red decorated the sides of the garden. The sweet scent of lily of the valley filled her lungs as she took the garden in.
Unbenounced to her, the man is watching from inside. Taking in her dark red coat and light brown boots, observing the way that her silvery ringlets frame her face. How her bright blue eyes sparkle as they take in his secret garden. Her pink lips are stretched into a smile forming little wrinkles around her eyes. A ring echoes through the man's house, breaking his train of thought. Following the pairs routine, he checks to make sure the coast is clear, he picks up the still warm dish on his doorstep and watches the woman walk away.
These brief interactions with the woman were his favorite part of the day and he found himself looking forward to them. Her visits drag him out of the dark black hole that is his loneliness. However, he can't bring himself to go to town, he's too embarrassed about what people may think.
Around thirty years ago he was drafted to fight in the upcoming war, so he quit his job as a mechanic and reported for duty. After going through basic training, he and the rest of his unit were sent overseas and put on the front lines. One day on the battlefield a grenade was thrown near the man. Caught in the explosion, the man suffered severe injuries and was honorably discharged. After being stabilized, the man was sent to a hospital in the United States. When he woke, he found himself covered in bandages. Some nurses came and explained the situation to him. Apparently he suffered from some internal bleeding and third degree burns, the worst of which were on his face. He stayed at the hospital for about a month until the doctors allowed him to return home. After a couple of weeks the man was finally able to take off his bandages. Wrinkles and cracks danced across his skin, decorated with splotches of red. Ashamed of the marks on his face, the man decided to stay hidden away in his house, scared of people's reactions.
The man ran a sponge over the pan, carefully cleaning it for the woman. Setting the pan on the counter to dry, the man grabbed a purple sticky note. He slowly drags his pen across the page and writes a thank-you note as he does every week. However, this time he strays from his routine and walks outside to his garden. Remembering the woman's face when she saw the flowers, he cuts a white rose off of a bush and heads back inside. Arranging all of the items inside the pan, the man leaves it outside for the woman and waits.
The man watches the woman walk up to his door. A smile paints her face when she picks up the rose. Bringing it to her nose she inhales its sweet scent as a sigh leaves her lips. This makes the man smile as well causing a fuzzy feeling in his chest.
The man continues to give her flowers in the upcoming weeks as well. Gifting her with jasmine, lily of the valley, cherry blossoms, lotus flowers, begonias, and moonflowers. With each flower he gave her, he fell more and more in love with her.
One day he decided that he wanted to make the woman her own flower. He worked from dawn till dusk for weeks on end to make it for her. The man only stopped to try the woman's latest treat. .
A couple of months later the man finally finished. The flower has 11 petals, each representing a month he had known the woman and it's a beautiful bright blue, the same color as the woman's eyes. The man decides to name it the Smeraldo flower.
The man then, following their routine, washes the woman's plate. Inside he places the Smeraldo flower and the usual sticky note, however, he also places a letter inside as well. In it the man confesses his feelings for the woman and how he made the flower for her. Placing the plate outside on his doorstep the man anxiously waits for the woman.
A couple of hours pass and then a day. The man then waits a week and a few more, until a month has passed and he still has not seen the woman. Her plate laid untouched.
The man, tired of waiting, decides to call into town to see what has come of the woman, but no one answers. He then adornes a hat, sunglasses and scarf, to cover his scars, and heads into town.
A bell jingles, announcing the man's presence, as he walks into the post office. Walking up to the front desk he carefully describes the woman and asks if the postman might know what happened to her. As he's describing the woman the postman's face turns more and more apologetic, until the man stops. The postman then informs the man that the woman died from a heart attack a couple of weeks ago. The man mumbled a quick thank you and stumbles outside the store and down the street. He rushes towards his run-down house. Tripping over the woman's pan he walks into his house and slams the door shut. The man collapses against the door and he weeps.
It has been several years since the woman's death and the man has not left his house since. He has fallen impossibly deeper into his pit of loneliness. His precious garden now as overgrown and unkempt as the rest of his house. Yet, somehow the smeraldo flowers still bloom. And so they sit in the corner or his backyard, serving as a painful reminder of his untold truth.
.......................................................................................................................Sorry it's unedited, but I hope you liked it :)
