𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓⁰²ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ

19 the garden

luke
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The moment we stepped into the garden, our senses were invaded by the sharp smells of the summer blooms, taking over my cologne, Asari's perfume, and even the cookie that I held close to my face as I nibbled at it slowly.

The garden seemed far less lonely in the day, with Asari walking ahead to look over the bushes of flowers she didn't recognised. She'd lean in, keep her hand by her neck so her hair wouldn't curtain over her face, and close her eyed for a second as she took in a whiff of the plant. She did it multiple times that I was tempted to offer to tie her hair she she wouldn't have to hold it back every time.

I let her be, though, smelling them and noting how that one smells sweeter than this, but this is stronger than the other one - her own words. This would be a nice perfume, she said. I didn't know they smelled like that, she said. Roses smell like shit, she cringed and I laughed. Meanwhile, she let me wander in my own words, trailing right behind as she darted left and right on the bushes. I started telling her about a book I was reading, unsure why I was even telling her all this. But, to admit, I was trying to get back into reading, and in my head, it made sense that if I told someone I was reading something, maybe it'd motivate me to actually finish the book.

Her eyes lit up at the mention of it, though. She began suggesting books I hadn't heard of, then laughing when my face fell at news that they were they old old kind. Some Orwell, Whitman, Dostoyevsky. Not that old, but the classic kind of old. Any books published before the 30s, I considered 'old'. I assumed she'd made me out to be an ex-bookworm, previously in love with a book character, nose always hovering over some Times New Roman print, bent spine, curved paperbacks - but I didn't bother to correct her. I liked how she assumed that. Did I look like I used to be a bookworm? It also meant she herself was one, especially with all those recommendations at the tip of her tongue, ready to be enunciated in perfect pride. How couldn't she be?

After she'd smelled all the kinds of flowers, she kept by my side and pulled out an unused tissue from her pocket, letting her cookie rest on her palm as she poked and prodded a finger at it. I watched curiously as I talked, my feet leading us further into the garden and farther from the church. It had only been a couple minutes not too long, so I assumed no one was yet looking for my return for the next meeting.

I watched Asari break her cookie, stretching out two fingers and pulling out a raisin from the middle. Then again, she repeated the action on the back side until she'd extracted 4 raisins and was left with a crumbly cookie. Only then she started to eat it, leaving the raisins on the tissue.

I knew many people who disliked raisins, though I'd never witnessed anyone so violently - a bit of an exaggeration, yes - take them out and continue to consume what crumbles where left. They either sucked up and ate the damn thing or didn't eat them at all. I figured Asari was slightly too determined then oddly determined.

Sfter she'd consumed the cookie, she wrapped up the raisins, folded them into the tissue, and kept it in her palm - absent-minded of my observstions.

"Gimme," I said, opening my hand towards her.

She looked at me, face twisting in question.

"The raisins. I lik'em," I then closed my hand quickly just to open it back up, the way kids do when they're asking for something.

A small smile rose from her lips and she placed the folded tissue in my grasp, crossing her arms afterwards. "I actually do eat them, like in salads and stuff, but in cookies, they taste weird," She scrunch her nose to signify her disgust. Meanwhile, I popped a raisin in my mouth and chewed braggingly at her.