The Flower Girl – Part 1

On October 23, 2013, in Readers Own Stories, Romantic Stories, by Beatrix Kix

Down the street from my apartment is an openair flower stall which I pass every day on my way to work. Sometimes, on my way home, if the weather is warm and I’m not in a hurry, I stop to
smell the flowers and buy one or a small bouquet of several to put on my kitchen table and brighten up my apartment. Usually I buy sunny yellow flowers like sunflowers, snapdragons, and chrysanthemums.

One Friday, at the end of the work week, I was feeling low. Long story short, a man who I’d been
seeing turned out to not be who I thought he was, and I was feeling disappointed, betrayed, and
sorry for myself. I had stopped at a bakery and was eating a chocolate covered jelly donut as I
walked up to the flower stall. I stopped and finished eating my donut, appreciating a new display
of roses as I licked my fingers clean.

The flower stall often has beautiful roses, but that day they were exceptional. Besides the usual
spectrum of white to pink to red buds, there was an array of dyed flowers in every color of the
rainbow. Blue blossoms looked like cake icing, while the green looked like hard candy. Best of
all were the tie dyed rosebuds, where each blossom had petals of orange, purple, yellow, pink,
red, green, and blue.

I leaned over the roses, closed my eyes, breathed deeply of their fragrance, and sighed.
“They are special, don’t you think?” a soft voice said beside me. I opened my eyes, turned my
head, and looked into the deep brown eyes of a beautiful mochaskinned
woman. She stood inches shorter than me, and wore her black hair in a thick bun. I became aware of an exotic floral scent mixed in with the usual scents at the flower stall, something like lilies, sweet and musky.

My heart pounded and I felt my hands clench unconsciously into fists. Flight or fight, I thought.
Instant attraction. My legs felt weak.

She picked up a bouquet of rainbow roses. She wore a long sleeved pink cardigan, and a sharp
black line of a tattoo poked out from under the sleeve and down her hand, pointing at her first
knuckle. Roses in hand, she looked down her nose at them, and lightly touched the edges of
one blossom, then another. “No two are the same,” she said.

She pulled out a rose, one I thought was not very beautiful, but seemed more so for her having
selected it. The rose was mostly yellow, tinged green on one side, with two pink petals, and an
orange center. She brought the rose to her face, looked up at me and smelled the blossom,
then brushed the petals over her mouth. I licked my lips.

“Do you know how they make rainbow roses?” she said.

“No,” I said. I gazed into her dark eyes. “Do you know?”

She broke our gaze and smiled, showing perfect small white teeth, as she tucked the mostly
yellow rose back into the rainbow bouquet. “Yes of course,” she said. “I made them.”

“You work here?” I said. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

She clasped both hands behind her back. “Today is my first day,” she said. “My name is Marla.”
She held out her hand and I shook it.

“I’m Lindsey,” I said. “Pleased to meet you.”

Marla turned her head to the side, sort of grinned, then looked away. I stood entranced. I noticed
a curling black line of a tattoo on the side of her neck, poking out from under the pink cardigan.

“If you’d like to learn how I can show you,” she said. She locked her gaze onto mine. “I live very
close to here, and I am off from work in an hour. Give me your number so I can invite you over.”

“Okay,” I mouthed, completely breathless. She took a phone out of her pocket. I gave her my number and she typed it in. Then she hugged me.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. Then she stood back, pulled a rose from the bouquet and handed it to me. The flower was gemcolored, blue, pink and purple, with a flame red center.

“Good bye, lovely Lindsey,” she said. “See you soon.”

the-flower-girl-story

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