IT IS WHAT IT IS
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- Votes 5
- Parts 18
Tagsmysterious
In a quaint town nestled among rolling hills, there's a curious shop called "It Is What It Is." The shop's interior is a labyrinth of shelves stocked with peculiar items-a mishmash of trinkets, each with its own mysterious allure. The shopkeeper, an enigmatic figure named Eliot, is known for his cryptic smiles and uncanny ability to match customers with exactly what they need.
One rainy afternoon, Sarah, a disillusioned artist, wanders into "It Is What It Is" seeking inspiration. With a sigh, she picks up a weathered paintbrush from a cluttered shelf. As she contemplates its worn bristles, Eliot appears silently beside her.
"It's not just a brush," he murmurs, his eyes twinkling. "It's a conduit for forgotten dreams."
[ON GOING !!!]chapter 1 posted!!!!
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Featured by @Romance .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. "Why do you make these paper flowers?" He asked, looking at her through the mirror. "They don't wither like the real ones." She replied, aligning the entire bunch of paper flowers. "But they don't have the fragrance." He politely challenged her. He was a soldier. Chivalrous was his middle name. "These paper flowers, they stay with you for as long as you want. You don't really have to throw them away like people discard the real ones. They pluck them for the fragrance and colors. But once that fades, they throw it away." She said, finally looking up at him. "Not everyone!" He added almost immediately, taking one more step forward. It could be his height or his longer stride, or maybe the room was too small as it only took him two steps to reach her. "Yeah! Of course! Exceptions are there, like poets and people in love." She walked in a different direction, putting those flowers on the table. He rolled his eyes with a defeated sigh. She was a teacher. Arguing with her was as futile as making a sand castle on a seashore. "You know, gone is the era when people used to preserve the flowers of their loved ones. We don't have people like that anymore!" She said as she faced him. "We don't have that kind of love anymore." He said looking straight into her eyes. She held his gaze through the mirror for a while, trying to read through him. "I agree." Murmuring under her breath, she turned around. Taking a deep breath, watching her retreating figure, he brought out his favorite poetry book from the shelf. After he was sure she was not looking, he ruffled through the pages till he found a dried Hibiscus. The very same one which had fallen from her bag when he first saw her. With a small smile, he cautiously caressed the petals. He closed the book with a fond sigh and found her looking at him. She couldn't hold his gaze for long and looked down, crimson covering her cheeks. He shook his head with a chuckle.
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