Of Planes and Flowers
I own only the ideas. Tenses subject to change without notice.
She didn't believe in love. Not really. Like the way you don't believe in plane crashes. Sure, they happen. To other people. To famous people. But they don't happen to you and they don't touch you anymore than the six o'clock News does when it relates the story in that oh-so-dramatic way. Plane crashes don't happen to people you know. Plane crashes don't happen to C.C. Babcock.
She works late sometimes... all the time... she doesn't really keep track anymore. She doesn't go anywhere but work and home... the occasional social party where she socializes with the open bar. She has always been nervous on planes. Once there was someone, forever ago, who might have been Someone but she can't remember his name. She remembers he worked in the travel industry; he loved to fly. One day he hadn't flown back. She noticed in a vague way, like you notice a particularly pretty flower that is stepped on by a hurrying man who cannot be troubled with sidewalks. C.C. had never been sent flowers, though she never really noticed.
She worked late one night.... every night... only he really keeps track anymore. He stays up, though she doesn't notice, and puts out fresh flowers. She assumes it is his job and she never looks up. Until one late night. He came in and just stared at her, fresh cut flowers in his hand. She is too tired to question, too tired to think. She was tired when the plane crashed. Later she would remember there were flowers all around her and the fire. Oh there was fire. Heat. Warmth. Love? Later she would pretend not to notice when he stood a little bit closer than necessary. When he smiled a little bit more when they spoke. When a particularly beautiful flower 'fell' quite by accident into her purse. And he pretended to forget the fire they had together. How she stayed a little bit later at work and frowned a little bit less when they passed in the halls.
But once you've seen a plane crash, you tend to notice. And they are notoriously hard to forget. If you try very hard you can ignore the flowers and the heat and the warmth. But the love lingers... like the scent of pine sol.... it clings... like a pinstripe suit. And in the dark, he believes in flowers. And in the dark, she believes in plane crashes. And one day, that may make all the difference.
End