How they met…

“You’re staring at me,” she said.

“Oh, sorry,” he stammered, looking down.  “I was trying to see the title of the book you’re reading.”

She held it up so he could see.

“Thank you. Every time I see a book I want to know the title, or what it’s about.”

“I’m the same way,” she said.  “What’s with that, do you think?”

“Book lovers want to know if it’s something they’d be interested in, I guess.  Or, if it’s a book they’ve already read.”

“I’m sure it’s both,” she agreed.  “Have you read this one?”

“No.  I don’t read a lot about artists.  I find their lives interesting, but they’re slow reads for me.  I mean they aren’t boring, just…”

“Dull?”

“Pretty much,” he laughed.

“I have a hard time with some of them myself.  I usually read about female artists, since they are so often unknown, due to sexism and ignorance.”

“I think those are both the same thing,” he said.

She smiled at him.  “Yes, they are.”

“Can I buy you another cup of whatever you’re drinking?”

“Sure,” she said, pushing out the chair across from her with her foot.

“I’ve always loved to read, even as a kid,” he said, holding up his hand and pointing to their cups, ordering two.

“Me too.  Always had a book in my hands.  My parents loved it.  I was never a problem.  They hardly knew I was around.”

He nodded.  “Sometimes I’d sit behind a chair in the living room, so they couldn’t find me and stop me from reading.”

“I did the same thing,” she snickered.  “The chair was a lime green and I never wanted to be found.  It was like a little hide-a-way, even thought my mom knew where I was.”

“I like a urban fantasy, and physics, some…”

“Nightside, and Dresden?  How about…” she started to say.

“Yes, yes, and there are so many good one’s out there now.”

“Retail bookstores or used?” she asked.

“Both.”

“Good answer,” she said, accepting her cup of cocoa, thanking the waiter.

“Are you from around here?”

“Yes.  You?”

“Born and raised a few blocks away,” he said.

“My name’s Eve.”

“No way.”

“Way,” she said.

“My name is Adam.”

“You’re kidding.”

“If we get married, we can’t name our kids Cain and Abel,” he laughed, regardless of their gender.

“Which one shot the other?”

“I think Cain got rid of his brother,” he said.  “He probably borrowed his clothes and never gave them back.”

“You mean borrowed his fig leaf?”

He burst out laughing.  “I pictured them in jeans and t-shirts.”

“What do you think the snake wore?”

“Something in snakeskin, I imagine.” he said, seriously.

“Funny,” she chuckled, sipping her drink.

“But true.”

“Do you have sibs?”

“I’m an only.”

“Me too.”

“Less baggage, that way,” he said.  “Plus my parents said they saw kids who weren’t readers and they didn’t want to take the chance they’d get one of those.”

“That makes perfect sense.  I wonder if that’s why my parents didn’t have more kids,” she said, thoughtfully.

“Probably.”

“Do you want to meet me here tomorrow, same time?” she asked, getting her things together.

“Sure,” he said, passing her book to her.

“We can read, eat and chat.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, happily.

She nodded at him.  “Thanks for the cocoa.  See you tomorrow.”

“You’e welcome,” he said, standing.  “See you then.”

 

How they met…Neon…a short story

“This is a great bookstore,” she said excitedly, throwing a few more things onto the counter.  “I absolutely LOVE it, to the Moon and Back.”

“We’re opening another shop on the moon before Christmas.”

“Interesting,” she muttered.  “And how, exactly, will the customers get there?”

“People are already living on the Moon. The government just doesn’t want anyone to know,”  he said, conspiratorially.  “Don’t tell anyone I mentioned it.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t,” she laughed, crossing her heart with her finger.  “You have a lot of unusual books.  Things I’ve never seen anywhere else.  It’s wonderful.”

“Thanks.”

“We need a lot more independents.  So many closed, but perhaps they’ll start opening again.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he said.  “It’s a tough business with on-line shopping, offering lower prices.”

She nodded.  “Makes it difficult for everyone.”

“It does.  You get price cuts from publishers, according to the number of books you order.  Who can compete with Big Box stores and Amazon?  No one, that’s who.”

“It’s not fair,” she said.

“No.  It’s not.”

‘How are you going to deal with radiation poisoning on the moon?”

“Tin foil.”

She burst out laughing.  “Great idea.”

“We think so,” he said, smiling.

“Have you read any of the books in my stack?”

He looked at the books and nodded.  “I’ve read all of them, but you won’t like this one,” he said, pulling it out of the pile.  “The blurb is great but the book is terrible.  Bad writing and weak plot.  The characters are so dull I don’t think the pages would catch if you put them into a roaring fireplace.”

She stared at him.  “Thank you.”

“This one is great, and I’d recommend buying the second book. They may be going out of print.  Once that happens, the price will skyrocket and people will be selling their copies on line.”

“I’ll do it.”

“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, this book is a five, if you like reading about the misery of others.  I don’t, but you might.”

“No,” she said, putting the book aside.  I don’t.”

“This one is fantastic.  Great writing and characters you’ll never forget.  You might even want to be one of them.”

“Perfect,” she said, smiling.  “Have you been to the moon?”

“Excuse me?”

“The moon.  Have you ever been there.  Did you go looking for a proper bookstore site?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one is allowed to know about trips to the moon.”

“Are the people there aliens or humans.”

“Those are the same two things,” he said.

“Hmmm.  I guess they are, when you think about it.”

“We’re aliens on earth.  All of us,” he said.

“You can’t be an alien, if you’re born here.”

“I think you should look at these two books,” he said, reaching for a couple of hardcovers on the shelf behind him.

“Okay.”

“Don’t you want to know what they’re about?”

“No.  I trust you.  If you think they’re great, I’m willing to read them, but only if you read two that I pick out for you.”

“Really?” he said, grinning.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing into the shop.

When she came back, she had two books in her hands.  “Read these.  No questions asked.”

“Promise,” he said, taking them from her.

“I’ll come back in two weeks and we’ll discuss the books, okay?”

“Yes.  That will be fun,” he said, putting her books into a cloth bag.

“Is the moon beautiful?”

“Not really.  It’s a man-made orb, metal and hollow inside.  It’s cold on the dark side and nothing really grows on the outside.  The government has people working inside the orb, making weapons, lots of things.  It’s a dead place and living inside is horrible, like living in a house with no windows.  Artificial light, is artificial.  Drives you crazy in no time at all and you long to be outside on earth.”

“What if I told you I was CIA and you could be disappeared for what you just said?”

“I’d ask you to kiss me, before you shot me.”

She grabbed his shirt, pulled him forward, and kissed him.  “You need to be more carful, Timmothy Larken,” she whispered.  “Please don’t make me erase you.”

“People should know,” he said softly.

“They can’t know,” she said, picking up her bag.   “I’ll see you in two weeks.  Hope you like the books I chose for you.”

 

Photo:  Dalal Nizam
Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

How they met…

She crashed into him, bounced off, and almost fell.  “Oh, sorry,” she said, looking up.  “Are you okay?”

“Nice of you to ask, but I outweigh you by about seventy pounds and I’m at least a foot and a half taller, so, yes.  I’m okay,” he chuckled.

“Good.”

“What are you reading that’s so engrossing?”

She held up the book, so he could see the title.  “I know I shouldn’t read and walk at the same time, but it’s a good book and…”

“Don’t worry about it.  I liked the book too.”

“The part where they dive into the canyon.  I can’t even imagine doing that, but I kind of want to.  It’s just that real life isn’t like a book and I wouldn’t exactly float to the bottom, but instead, be broken to bits on the rocks below.”

“I liked that part too and agree.  Floating wouldn’t save us.”

She laughed.  “The poisonous flowers are interesting as well.”

“I Googled them,” he said.  “I wanted to send them to one or two people I know.”

“I felt the same way,” she chuckled.  “Did you find a place where we can buy them?”

“Amazon didn’t even have them, so no.”

“Imagine being able to order the weather you want,” she sighed

“It would always be seventy-five degrees,” he said.

“And the wind wouldn’t go above nine miles an hour.”

“Do you like waffles?”

“I love waffles, why?” she asked.

“They make the best ones, right across the street and I’m hungry.  Care to join me?  We can discuss the book and…”

“Did you read the first one?” she asked.

“I did,” he said.  “I think the second one is better.”

“So do I!”

“Waffles?”

“Yes.  Love some.”

 

 

How they met…

“So,” he said.  “Do you believe in angels?” asked the guy standing next to her table.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why do you want to know.  Why do you care?” she asked.

“I’m curious.  It seems as if more women believe in angels than men.”

“Maybe they believe in angels because of men.”

“Good one.”

“Go away.”

“What?”

“I said, GO AWAY.”

“Hey, Love Duck, is this guy bothering you?” asked the tall, cute guy bending down for a kiss.

“Yes.”

He pushed past the intruder and sat down.

The guy snarled and walked away.

“Hi.  My name is Mark.  I saw that guy giving you a hard time, so I thought I’d see if I could help out.  I read where men are supposed to help women who are being harassed by other men and I thought this might be one of those moments.”

She stared at him.

“Do you want me to leave?  I think the guy’s gone.”

“You know,” she said, offering him part of her cookie, “it seems as if men are still playing games among themselves over, or for, women who are still considered either prey or fair game.  Either way, the women involved don’t seem to have a say in what’s going on around them, since most of us just want to be left alone.”

“Yes, but at least now some of us are trying to stop the violence and all the other stuff you have to put up with.   Like me sitting at your table, kissing you, and that was a great first kiss by the way, without asking your permission.  I just thought I should make it look real, that’s all.”

“This isn’t a romance novel.  I’m not going to ask you back to my place, marry you, have ten kids and live happily ever after.”

“Wow.  I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am to hear that,” he laughed.  “I never want kids, but the first part might be nice.  Still, that’s not why I did it.  I have two sisters, a mom, and a lot of women friends who tell me what they go through every single day and it’s just wrong.  I thought maybe I should do something about it.”

“We can’t trust any of you.”

“You shouldn’t.  Although that makes it a lot harder for me to ask you to dinner, but hey, I don’t now how to fix that part of the problem.  I could bring my sisters along,”  he laughed, “if they could get someone to watch their kids.  Both of their husbands are morons.”

“Why would you want to take me to dinner?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, frowning.

“If something seems too good to be true, it usually is,” she said, drinking the last of her tea.

“Are you too good to be true?” he asked.

“Not what I meant.”

“What kind of cookie was that?  It was delicious,” he said, picking at the crumbs.

She snickered and stood up.  “Nice meeting you, Mark.”

He handed her a napkin.  “My phone number, in case you want to get together for coffee, dinner, a trip to Spain, you know…pretty much anything.”

She took the napkin and put it into her bag.  Then she picked up his hand and kissed his palm.  “I’ll think about it,” she said.

He watched her walk away.

The guy at the next table turned to Mark and said, “That was so…”

“I know,” said Mark, “it really was.”

 

 

 

Neon…how they met.

“It’s true, you know,” she said.

“What’s true?”

“The time IS always now.  I mean it can’t actually BE any other time than now.”

“I bet you majored in philosophy,” he said.

“How can it possibly be the past or future?  It’s always only NOW.  And NOW, is in the past before we even realize it was here.  The future becomes the NOW, and the NOW turns into the PAST, and life is lived in moments so short, there are no words for it.  It’s as if there’s a black void behind us and in front of us, and life is a flashbulb moment that illuminates the wee second in between the two, and that’s all there IS.  There IS nothing else.”

He stared at her and said, “What do you want to eat?”

“Grilled veggie cheese sandwich and fries, crispy, please.  Lemonade and chocolate cake.”

“For here or to go?”

“Here, and what about the sign?”

He leaned on the counter.  “You’re right, of course.  There is no time but the tiny instant our awareness calls life.  Life exists from second to second.  We can’t see behind us, or in front of ourselves.  There’s nothing but things that have  already happened and possibilities that may come our way from the future,  I agree.”

“I think I love you.”

“Well,” he said, “You’d be the only one.  Everyone hates it when I talk about things like that.”

“I know what you mean,” she sighed, looking down.  “No one cares about that stuff.”

“I do.”

“Do you think that before we’re conceived, we’re floating in the future?”

“Yes.  We’re always possibility.”

“I think that as well.  If we’re energy we can always become something,” she said, nodding.

“When we die, we don’t go into the past, we go forward into the future, do you agree?”

“I do.”

“You’re food is ready,” he said.  “I get off in a half hour.”

“Join me?”

“Definitely.”

“When the universe ends,” she said, starting to walk away.  “Everything will die.  It will be blacker than black and colder than cold and nothing will survive.  The planets and suns, everything will just hang in s I think that will include energy, don’t you?  If there’s nothing, then there’s nothing.  Or, is there always something?  Can energy actually BE destroyed? Is that possible, rather than having it just change forms?  What will happen when it’s over?  I don’t think the Big Bang started by itself.  That’s insane.  Nothing can come out of nothing.  Something was here.  Was it energy? What IS the something?  What is Dark Matter?  Is it a different kind of energy or is it intelligence unbound?  We don’t know anything.  Not really.  What’s going on?  There was something before the universe was born.  Were other universes already here?  Is light more than photons and…”

“I’ll see you in fifty-two minutes,” he said excitedly.

 

Neon…How They Met…

“Who is the “I” and why does that person love people?” he asked.

“This is a bookstore,” she said.  “Everyone here loves people, especially people who buy books from us.”

“Oh, so you don’t actually love people, you love their money.”

“We love books and people who love books.  We love talking with them about books and hoping the books we sell them will become books they love and want to keep forever.  What part of that don’t you GET?”

“I don’t love people,” he said.

“I’m okay with that,” she said, slamming the book he was buying onto the counter.

“Do you love people?”

“Very few.”

“Why doesn’t your sign say I HEART BOOKS, instead of people?”

“I just work here.  I am not responsible for what the sign says.  And that will be twenty-six dollars and eighty cents.  Do you want a bag?”

“I love books,” he said.

“I’m happy for you. What about the bag?”

“You’re very sarcastic, and I don’t need a bag.”

“Thank you for both things,” she said.  “Here’s your book, now go away.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Hopefully, on my day off,”  she said, watching him leave.

“I’m not at all like that guy,” said the next man in line.  “So you don’t have to beat up my books, or growl at me.”

“That remains to be seen,” she sighed.  “He’s lucky I didn’t hit him with the book.”

“It must be difficult dealing with the public.”

“Sometimes.  Most people are very nice.  But some think they can bargain on the price of a book, or want things for free.  Some treat those of us who wait on them as if we are their servants, or just invisible.  They talk on their phones, then complain that we didn’t tell them something, when we actually did…they just weren’t listening.”

“Could you wrap these, please?” he asked, pushing a few books toward her.  “They’re for my niece. It’s her birthday.”

“Animal Farm, 1984, Women artists.  How old is she?”

“Six.”

“I think I love you,” she laughed.

“She’s a feminist.  I take her to demonstrations and rallies.”

“Okay.  Now I KNOW I love you.  And these are for you?” she asked, pulling a stack toward the register?”

“Yes.”

“Ack,” she said.  “You’re going to be SOOOOOO disappointed in this one.  It’s terrible. You might want to think about not getting it. You’ll love this one, and this one is…mmmm…so-so.  This one will hold a special place on your bookshelf.  This one, just forget it,” she muttered, taking it out of the pile, and the rest are..okay, if you don’t have anything else to read.”

“Do you rate all the books people buy?”

“Only for special customers who buy fabulous books for their six-year-old relatives.”

“Have you read all the books in the shop?”

“No.  Not all of them.”

“Why won’t I like this one?”

“Author changed the main character’s personality and turned him into a wimp and idiot. He was cool and tough, now he’s just pathetic. Added characters that I’d kill off instantly, just to make them disappear from the pages.  And this one,” she said, holding up a thin book,  “is so dull you would beg it to stop while you walked it to the recycling bin..”

“Wow.  What if I told you I was the author.”

“I’d tell you to change jobs.”

He laughed.

“You aren’t the author, are you?”

“No, I am not,” he said, smiling at her.  “What do you recommend?”

“Well, from the looks of what your buying, we may have similar taste in some areas.  I don’t know what you’ve read, but I can walk you through the aisles and tell you what I liked.”

“That would be great.  Maybe we could have coffee in the tiny cafe afterward.”

“Maybe we could.”

“Why do you read?”

“To escape life.  That’s why everyone reads, even if they don’t know it.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“What’s wrong with life?” he asked.

“Can you fly?  Do magic?  Beat up the bad guys and make sure they stay down?  Can you understand animals when they talk?  Can you…fall in love forever, or never fall in love and not care, or…”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“I think so.  You want to live in a magical world, full of delight, sunshine, wonder and kindness.  Fairies and Dragons, I assume?”

“Naturally.”

“Do you think that kind of world exists somewhere, other than in books?”

“I hope so.”

“I might just be in love with you too,” he said.  “Shall we begin in the fantasy section?”

“I don’t see why not,” she said, telling the checker next to her that she was going on a long break.”

“Look as if you might be coming back,” he said, grinning at her, then looking at the guy staring at her.

“Oh, Melvin,” she said, smiling.  “You’re such a romantic.”

Melvin blushed and blew her a kiss.  “Just leave his order where it is. I’ll make sure the books aren’t re-shelved.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then grabbed a basket and handed it to the guy.  “You’ll need this,” she said, excitedly.  “Let’s go to the aisles of magic.”

The Brown Mouse Bar and Grill…How They Met.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said, tray under his arm, note pad in his hand.

“I’ve never been her before.”

He nodded.  “What’ll you have?”

“A vegetarian salad and lemonade.  Warm cherry pie for dessert with vanilla bean ice cream”

“Perfect.”

“And I want to see the Brown Mouse, this place is named for.”

“The Brown Mouse?”

“Yes.  I want to see the Mouse.”

“There is no mouse.”

“There has to be a mouse, if the place is named after one.”

“That’s not true.”

“It should be.”

“I might be able to catch a mouse for you, or buy one, if you want to come back in a day or two.”

“If you’re naming a place, The Brown Mouse, you need to have a Brown Mouse so people can see it.”

“I’ll be back with your lemonade in a minute,” he said, walking away.

“Madam?” said a man in a pristine white half apron.  The kind you see in Paris, wrapped around his waist.

“Ouí?”

“You wish to see the Mouse?”

“If it’s possible.”

“May I sit?”

“Please,” she said, pointing to the chair.

“I’m afraid to say the Mouse is no longer with us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He nodded.  “He was a nice Mouse.  My father told me the story about how he and my grandfather came to this shop.  It was empty, and had been for more than a year.  They worked hard and made enough money to buy the building, the shop and the apartment above.  When they started cleaning, they saw the Brown Mouse.  They worked long hours and the mouse would watch them, sometimes coming out of his mouse house.  They fed him cheese from their lunches, and bread.  They put a dish of water out for him. Eventually, the mouse became used to seeing them and came out more often.  One day he even sat on my fathers shoe.” he said, smiling.  “They loved the mouse and named their restaurant after him.”

“What a wonderful story.  Thank you so much for telling me.”

“I have a secret,” he whispered, looking around.

She leaned in close to him and watched him put his hand into his shirt pocket.  He pulled out a sleepy brown mouse.  “An ancestor of the original,” he said.  He has nice nest in the back and we care for him.  His siblings are at our homes,” he laughed, handing the mouse to her.

She kissed the mouse and her eyes were sparkling with tears.  “He’s so beautiful.”

The man nodded.  “He brings us luck.  There has been a mouse on the property for forty years.”

“I work for the Health Department,” she said, petting the mouse.

The man paled and scooted backward.

“I’m happy to see all is in order in your lovely Bar and Grill.  I’m looking forward to my lunch.  I’m sure your kitchen is spotless and I may have a look after I eat, but I know I will be pleasantly surprised.”

She handed the mouse back to the man and he slipped him back into his pocket.  He took her hand and kissed it.  “A pleasure,” he said.

She smiled.  “The pleasure is mine, I assure you.  A man with a gentle heart is a beautiful thing to see.  I’m sure the mouse house is away from the food area.”

“It is.”

“The lemonade is delicious.”

“It’s a special recipe and the ice cubes have a flavor of their own.”

The waiter put her salad in front of her, smiled and left.  The man rose and bowed.  “Madam.”

“Kind sir,” she said, and picked up her fork.

 

 

 

Neon…and How they Met

“I don’t get it,” she said to the guy behind the bar.”

“Get what?”

“Why would anyone want to come in here to cry?  Why would anyone want to cry at all? And why is crying okay?  Wouldn’t it make everyone else feel bad, or freak them out?”

“What would you like to drink?”

“I didn’t come in here to drink,” she said.  “I came in here because the sign is…weird.”

“This is a bar. You have to order something to drink.”

“Where are all the crying people?” she asked, looking around.  “Everyone seems to be having fun.”

“Drink?”

“Water please.”

He shook his head.  “Ice?”

“Yes, please.”

He put a glass of ice water in front of her.

“Thank you.”

“Five dollars,” he said.

“For a glass of water?”

He nodded.  “It’s normally seven fifty but I’m giving you a deal.”

“Is that why the people who come in here, cry?  Because they get ripped off?”

“Partly,” he snickered.

“If that’s true, the sign makes sense.”

“Really?  You think people would cry because they were being overcharged for drinks?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know why people cry.  Do you?”

“Anger, rage, fear, pent up emotions, hate, helplessness, joy, happiness, sadness, the futility of life, loss…”

“I see,” she said, frowning.  “So, what you’re saying is that people cry over everything.  If that’s true, I’m surprised they can function at all.”

“Don’t you ever cry?”

“No,” she said.  “Do you?”

“Not really.”

“But you work in a place where crying is okay.”

“I guess I do,” he laughed.

“And you don’t think that’s a little crazy?”

“Maybe a little,” he said smiling at her. “What’s the big deal about crying, anyway?”

“You have an actual SIGN that tells people that they can come to this place and cry, but you don’t know what the big deal is?”

“They don’t really come here to cry.  They come here to drink, dance, and hook up.”

“So, no one cries?”

“Only now and then.  If someone drinks too much, or there’s a break up…that kind of thing.”

“I’m never going to understand the sign, am I,” she sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t think so.  I never have.”

She burst out laughing, took a sip of her water, and slid a ten dollar bill under the dripping wet glass.  Then she turned to go.

“When can I see you again?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“You’re funny, a little strange, and a big tipper.”

“Ah,” she said.

“Notice I didn’t mention that you’re beautiful, so I’m not sexist and didn’t offend you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I thought you might.”

“Why do you think I’m a little strange?”

“No one has ever asked about the sign before.”

“And you think they should have?”

“Absolutely.  The sign is idiotic.  Everyone who walks in here should ask about the sign.”

“Pizza at Mama’s, tomorrow at five?”

“See you then,” he said.

 

 

 

 

AMU
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How they met…

Elizabeth found him hiding in the bushes when she was four.  She was in the backyard, looking for worms to pet, when she heard a squeak and turned around to see a small green dragon, peeking out at her from between the weeds.

Being polite, she introduced her self right away, saying, “Hi.  I’m Elizabeth and I’m very happy to meet you.  What’s your name?”

“Rainbow,” he sighed, unhappily.  “I don’t breath fire, you see.  I breath…you won’t laugh at me will you?”

“Absolutely not,” said Elizabeth, firmly.

“I breath rainbows,” he said softly.  The dragon closed his eyes and pretended to be invisible, the way small dragons often do when they’re embarrassed.

“I see you, you know.  But if you’d rather be invisible, I’ll look the other way.”

The dragon put his paws over his eyes.

“Well,” said Elizabeth, turning away.  If you change your mind, I’m looking for worms, so I can say hello and pet them a bit.  I don’t think they get enough love from us, so I’m trying my best to make our worms happier and less afraid of humans.”

“Really?” said the dragon.

“Yes,” answered Elizabeth, picking up a long nightcrawler.  “This is Jason,” she said, holding the worm up for the dragon to see.  He’s very nice.  I tried kissing him but I got dirt in my mouth and I didn’t really like that, so now I just say hi and pet him a bit.”

“Why would you kiss a worm?”

“Why wouldn’t I?  I mean they’re very kind and they work hard, taking care of the garden and soil in the yard.”

“That’s true,” said the dragon.

“Do you like worms?”

“I never really thought about it,” said the dragon.  “Dragons are supposed to like gold and shiny things.”

“Is that what you like?” she asked. “Gold and shiny things?”

“Not really,” admitted the dragon.  “I mostly like colors.”

“Well,” she said.  “I think breathing out rainbows is one of the best things in the entire world.”

“You do?”

“I wish I could do it.”

“Really?” said the dragon.

“Can you teach me?” she asked, hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“That’s okay.  I know you would teach me if you could.”

“I would,” said the dragon, “but it’s a dragon thing.”

“Where do you live?” she asked, tucking the worm back into the dirt.

“Right here. In the weeds.”

“I thought dragons were a lot bigger.”

“They are,” he sighed.

“Well, if you like color, I have construction paper in my room.  You can come in and live with me or, I can bring the paper out to you.  Either way, it’s up to you.”

“Live with you?”

“Sure.  I leave the window open, so lots of things fly in and out. Sometimes they stay with me for awhile.  Do you like bananas?”

“I don’t really know.  I don’t know what a banana is.”

“Oh, look,” she said excitedly.  “It’s Charleen.”  She gently picked up the pink worm and stared talking to her.  Elizabeth laughed and nodded and then put the worm back in the grass.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she was happy to see me and that her baby worms were getting big enough to crawl away and it was driving her crazy.”

“I see,” said the dragon.  “I didn’t know worms had a language.”

“Everything has a language,” said Elizabeth.  “The trees, the flowers, the water, even you.”

“That’s true,” he said, nodding.  “You seem to understand me.”

“Kids can understand everyone and everything but they forget, as they grow up.  I’m practicing, so that I don’t.”

“I’d like to come inside with you,” said the dragon.

Elizabeth let the dragon crawl onto her open palm.  “You can leave anytime you like.  As I said, the window will be open.  But I hope you decide to stay.”

“You’re very kind,” said the dragon, as they headed toward the house.

“Not really,” she said, smiling.  “I’m just awake.”

“Elizabeth,” said her mother, when she walked into the kitchen.  “Time for lunch.”

“I found a dragon,” she said, holding out her hand.

Her mother looked at the dragon.  “What’s his name?”

“Rainbow.”

“Well, welcome, Rainbow,” said her mother.  “Lizzie, find out what he likes to eat and get ready to sit down. Please wash off the raccoons front paws first.  I don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”

Rainbow stayed with Elizabeth, even though he grew a LOT bigger. When she walked through the final door, at the end of her life, the dragon took her to a place where dragons lived free and forever.  It’s a happy place, where sometimes dragons breath out rainbows and girls look for worms .

 

Picture:  Prawny
Pixabay

 

 

How they met…

“Do I know you?” she asked, as he entered the shop.  “I feel as if you’ve been in her before.”

“You’ve probably seen me walk by on my way to work everyday,” he grinned.

“I bet that’s it.  Now, how can I help you?”

“I’d like a bouquet that would tell a woman she’s beautiful and I would like to get to know her better.  I have no idea which flowers mean what, so if you could put the whole thing together for me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” she said.  “I love to do things like that, but tell me about her.”

“She has brown eyes and hair, she’s on the petite side, graceful and she reminds me of  springtime.”

“She sounds wonderful,” she said, pulling flowers from different places.  “Go on.”

“I’m kind of shy and it’s hard for me to say those things, so I thought…”

“Flowers are the perfect way to speak without words,” she agreed, adding a bit of fern and baby’s breath.  “What colors does she like?”

“Yellow and green, with a dash of reds and a touch of blue.  But mostly yellow and green.”

“She sounds earthy.  I bet she loves gardens.”

“I’m afraid she’s too beautiful for me, but if I don’t try, how will I ever know?”

“That’s so true.  Have you known her long?”

“Not really,” he said.  “I’m not sure if she even noticed me.”.

“Ah,” she said, nodding.  “Well, this is going to be a stunning gift from an admirer, and I guarantee it will make her notice you.”

“Thank you.”

“Would you like a card?”

“Yes, please,” he said, choosing a small business sized card with a rabbit on it.  He picked up the pen and wrote a few words then looked at the beautiful flowers.  “They’re perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she beamed.

“They look exactly like what I imagine she would love.”

“You described her perfectly.”

“Did I?”

“You did.  She’ll be very lucky to know you.”

He slid his credit card over the counter and tucked the card between the flowers.  “Are those yellow snapdragons?”

“They are,” she said, handing him the receipt to sign.

“Thank you again,” he said, picking up the flowers.

“Please let me know how she likes them.”

“I will,” he said, handing the flowers to her.  “But I think you’ll have that part covered.”

 

Photo:  Eva Elijas
Pexels