His Little Flower (Felix and Flora)

I had to take a cab to Lexi’s place to get my car, and then drive to Felix’s from there. The drinking had been stupid. I shouldn’t have drunk, knowing I had to work the next day. And especially not that much. But I had met Lexi after so long, and I had had fun after so long.

When I rushed to the kitchen, I was already seven minutes late. Linda didn’t say anything, but she gave me a look that made me gulp. I apologized for being late and quickly got to work. Linda told me to run a load of laundry today after Felix had breakfast and left.

1 served him as usual, and he ignored me. I did not have much time to dwell on it, either. I had work to do. And I was slowly getting used to his nonchalant cruelty. I didn’t know if I deserved it. But I understood his actions, at some level. Every time I looked at him, I was still filled with hope – and I would search his eyes for acknowledgment, for

motion, anything But it was never there.

My head hurt so much. It felt like it was being split open from the inside. And the back of my eyes felt hot and heavy. I needed to sleep, and I needed somt Aspinn.

When Felix came down to breakfast, he was dressed in grey sweats and a white T–shirt. Not his work clothes. After he had eaten, he went back up to his room. Maybe he would go to work later.

Linda had told me Felix was a workaholic. Of all the things I had expected grown up Felix to be, this wasn’t it. I had imagined many, many versions of him. A workaholic was one I had never thought of. He had changed so much. He had matured it showed on his face, his mannerisms, and the way he spole

Our circumstances made us both grow up–so much and so quickly

After I had cleaned up after Felix had his beakfast, I fetched laundry from around the house. It wasn’t much, of course, given only one person lived here. Most of it was the bedding from guest rooms, or cushions and pillow covers. Felix’s room was the last place I went. He was in the shower – I could hear the water running, I picked up the clothes from the laundry basket in a small comer. I had kept it in the bathroom, but I guess he liked this place batter?

He had some clothes carelessly

ly thrown around the room. I didn’t know if he wanted them washed, but I decided a wash never hurt anyone.

Last night in my drunk, revere I had been thinking of my transition from a very privileged person to one who was quite certainly not. The change had been difficult. I’d found it hard not to be waited on hand and foot – not being driven around, having a small bathroom 1 shared with my Dad, doing all my chores myself. Working had been the worst. The people were rude and looked down upon me. When I had started doing housekeeping and cleaning work, that had been quite a change too. The first time I had been on my hands and knees scrubbing the owner’s kid’s pee off the rugs had been a very humbling moment. I didn’t know if it was just me, but I didn’t think I’d ever get used to work like this.

I didn’t mind doing it for Felix, though. It felt okay doing this for him. I didn’t feel like an employee. I was just Flora. I would do anything for him.

The washing machine was in the basement, so I went downstairs with the medium–sized pile of laundry. I had only been in the basement once, before. 11 hadn’t been made fully, yet it reminded me somewhat of the basement scene in Home Alone. Dark, and it smelled like wet wood, for some reason. If this was a horror movie, a witch would jump out from behind the piano.

I wondered why Felix had a piano down here. He didn’t play. No one in his family did

My heart sank with fearful realization. Maybe it had belonged to a girlfriend.

I wanted to lift the covers off of the plans and touch it once. My mother used to play it. Very beautifully. Until she stopped. When I was younger, she used to play Brahms‘ Lullaby for me. She continued to do it even when I had grown up. I remembered it like the back of my hand,

Refraining from the urge to check it out, I made my way past the piano and toward the washing machine. I began separating the colors and the whites, when I heard footsteps.

Of course.

this was turning into a horror

+ setup, a

as if I hadn’t been through enough in the twenty one years of my life.

I began to say prayers in my head, and I turned around slowly.

There was a tall, huge figure, shadowed by the lighting. But I knew who it was. I sighed in reliet Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Liam,”

He chuckled. He walked a few steps, stepping into th

the light, a goofy grin on his face.

“We always meet like this. I need to stop scaring you.”

I nodded. “I thought you were a ghost.”

He laughed deeply. “Mom told me to bring this to you.” He dropped a small pile of clothes with the rest of the laundry. Now that he was closer to me, I had a good look at his face. His beard had grown since I last saw him.

look at my face to

He had a good look at my face, too.

“Flora.”

“Jesus, Flora.” He exclaimed. “Wild night?”

I rolled my eyes. “I met up with a friend. Too many margaritas.”

“It shows.” He said, “You look like you’re having the worst hangover of your life.”

“Because I am having the worst hangover of my life.” I shrugged. I returned to my work, and Liam caught on, beginning to separate the clothes as well. I was glad for his company. I did not like being alone down here. And I liked him, he was sweet and funny and I felt strangely safe around him.