Keyholes To Flowerage

X. Keyholes to Flowerage

X. Keyholes To Flowerage

AS MANY not know, I've been tranquil for the past few weeks. I was better pleased with selected people I cherry-picked to surround myself with. Kind of. My connection with them is an amalgam of oxymoron and serenity; one that's opaque enough to be defined vulnerable and unstable. All of them are people of different kinds. To which I barely know if I am among those kinds due self-doubts and golden cell bars that dull my confidence to communicate with all my might. For the past few weeks, yes-I recognized the opaque string I have with them. That didn't make it easy for me to blend with their colors, however.

The Soulchild Café, 13:30.

Just letting the chips fall where they may, I came up with nothing but a nod to the setting and schedule Gilman instructed. It became a default to follow his instructions for he owned a car and we didn't. I settled under the wood-roof of The Soulchild, expecting for the others to come. I arrived whirlwind than I intended, I guess. I followed the speed of vehicles dressed in overrated colors; white, red, and black -social dancing in moderation as the masculine clouds joined the party.

"Hi." I jumped a bit, unaware that he has already arrived as well. "How long have you been here?"

"Eight minutes." I math-ed, not so sure. "Eight minutes earlier than the agreed time," I responded. He equated my direction and put a distance to make me feel comfortable, which was always a plus.

"Early bird," he chuckled. "You rock."

As though on cue, the 13:33 creamy rays painted my face for a moment so I didn't know if he saw me smile. But, I did. "Thank you."

Smelled of heavy grapevine, there existed another subject in the picture. Her lips stretched into a beam, she was glowing with courage no one could ever dull.

"Hey." She approached me with a soft hug and a milky smile to Ruel, earning the same from the latter.

"Four minutes late," said Ruel, waving his phone in front of us.

Carley instantly clicked her tongue, probably making up excuses in her mind. "I wasn't informed you two are particular about time. My bad, okay?"

"Well, you are now," someone snapped, climbing out the car with a familiar guy.

"Hi." Mason ruffled his own hair as he disclosed his impeccable teeth. "How have you been recently?"

"All is well." I stood straight, taking my responsibility as the group's leader genuinely.

"That's good to know!"

"Don't tell me you're hanging out with us?" asked Carley, palms lifted high to shield her face from the afternoon rays.

"I am," he guffawed. We all twisted our tongues with an invisible rope. "In all jokes aside though, I came here to check if the letters you sent are true."

His arms formed a cross against his chest. "And I think, they truly are." He cocked an eyebrow at his brother. "I just doubt this kiddo. You know, he's a tall party animal and has a cliffhanger attitude people who barely know him won't certainly like."

"Wow," Gilman mumbled with a drowsy tone. "Thanks for wrecking my image, brother."

I travelled my vision to Gilman, without hesitations, I uncloaked the dull frustration he was struggling to conceal with a rugged look. Staring into his beady eyes, they led me to a kind of him where everything was damp and dreary. And dark. His hair seeming like a tornado passed by, his lips managing a flat line as though they were kissed by disappointment. What bothered me the most was his visible, heavy sighs weaseled out from the each click of his tongue.