That Girl

"...and this one is a petunia. I call her Alice, because it seems like she's the sort that never really gets a grip on reality. The kind that goes on trying to be a rose, even if she's stuck being a petunia forever, y'know?"

The dark-eyed girl looked up from the melancholy plant, her left hand brushing her stick-straight black hair behind her ear as her right continued in the monotonous task of watering the flowers. A blonde boy stood to her left, equipped not only with a watering can but an infinite amount of patience as well. His calm eyes never left her, and she looked back up, nervous.

"I'm sorry, I tend to get carried away with that sort of thing. I've never really been that good at talking...y'know with people and stuff." The boy's smile was gracious and kind, and it made the girl feel like there was a light bulb on in her stomach.

"That's okay." His voice was soft like when you turn on the television during a party: loud enough to be audible, but really just background noise. They continued in silence for a little while longer, until the boy stopped suddenly. The girl looked up in surprise. "I ran out of water."

"Here, the faucet is right here. Um, come on." She led him past tangled vines, bright flowers, and other exotic foliage to a rusty paint-sink in the far corner of the room. They ran the water in silence, the pure liquid surprisingly clean considering the state of the faucet. Both were violently shaken from their thoughts when the water ran over the lip of the watering can. Reacting quickly, the girl turned off the faucet. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean..."

"It's okay" the boy said as he tipped the can just enough to make it manageable. "See?" The girl blushed and smiled, though the boy did not return her gaze. She quickly turned on her heels and walked stiffly back to her petunia, resuming her arduous activity. It was a few minutes before the boy spoke again.

"I like that." The girl jerked, startled by his voice.

"What?" she asked.

"That you care so much...you know, about the plants." The girl's face flushed. "I don't know many people who pay that much attention to the important things." He looked at his watch. "I really should be going."

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Yea."

Then only his echoing footsteps marked his passage . . .