#🌑ㅤ(ㅤ TURNER SMITH ㅤ)ㅤ―ㅤ THE GREATEST MAN YOU’VE EVER MET.

[rainturned]

was he giving it too much thought ? maybe it was normal, after all, it was a date, right ? kind of, at least ? turner sighed, taking a look down the busy street. the city had always made him nervous: after all, he'd always lived in the countryside, green pastures and neverending prairies sorrounding his home town. the city was too big of a fit for him, or at least it had been when they'd moved, a few years ago, for his mother's job.

evanston was too big for him: the city center where he'd gone to pick it up was a looming thing of buildings and concrete, and he'd nearly felt nauseous when he'd crossed the stenching streets, walking down in search of delicacy worth her time. how someone tough enough to be in the basketball team got nauseous when he walked into the city center... that was rather questionable.

the boy finally reached his destination, the yellowing canopy of the old flower shop had been extended, and he'd given a gentle knock on the open glass door as he'd entered the business. with a kind smile he'd requested the bouquet. the cellophane had reflected the light with ease and grace, and the florist had prepared it carefully before his eyes. it had been a slow process, the care and love for her craft turning flowers into art, a portrait not just of the artist, but of turner's own vision of her.

careful crafting for a jewel made of white and pink and red, for her. the red blooming roses and their potent sweet smell, covered in daisies, the crowned bleeding hearts accompanied by tulips the color of the sky at dawn. pink and red and white circled together in a wonderful dance, as they merged to form a small portrait: the one of an angel, the one of a beautiful thing. that, what @madeblonde was in his eyes.

after getting the bouquet he'd rushed to get it all ready. he'd cleaned up yet again, changed into a new shirt and put on nicer ( even if much less comfortable ) shoes. once he was done, he'd picked up the bouquet once again. he'd checked the way he'd have to go, and smiling lightly and with nervous grin, he'd looked at himself at least twice in every reflecting glass he'd found: checking his hair, or that he didn't have anything on his face. coast clear, he'd thought, when he'd finally approached the house he'd been searching for.

swallowing hard before waiting at the door, he was surprised at the sheer size of the place. he'd known the smiths were well off, but he hadn't expected that. picking at the skin on his free hand, he heard the buzzing and he aproached the door, waiting patiently. looking around, turning his head in absolute confusion and amazement. it wasn't a house: that place was a palace !

[rainturned]

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