The Most Beautiful Flower Of All… Part I: Budding
A child floated in the bubble of air with the breeze. Bangs of his light blue hair covered his curious, but unusually sad eyes. He was like a seed of a flower, floating through the world unseen and unnoticed by mankind. No one knew his name. No one knew where he was going.
He finally landed on the wet ground of a deserted courtyard, surrounded by tall, intimidating buildings and his bubble soon broke from the heavily beating rain. Alone and frightened, with his only protection gone, the uniformed boy lay helplessly under the raining sky, curling himself up into a ball.
He was alone. All alone. He doesn't know where he was on this weird planet, and he had no one to ask. After floating through space for weeks and months, the busy road with noisy cars brought no comfort, but more solitude than ever. People with umbrellas hurried along the sidewalks, but no one stopped. No one cared for a strange-looking little boy lost in the rain. He felt so abandoned and alone…
…so alone…
"My, you really shouldn't lie like that in the rain." A concerned voice said over him. "You'll ruin that pretty uniform."
He looked up and saw a young woman, around the age of eighteen, leaning over him, a worried expression on her face.
"Are you alright?" He shook his head.
"Do you have a home?" She smiled kindly under her bright yellow umbrella, where the rain was beating down upon relentlessly. He shook his head mutely again, feeling more miserable than ever. Her eyes softened as she reached out a hand and said warmly, "Then come home with me."
He stared at her hand, before slowly reaching out and touching it. It was warm and reassuring, like her smile. But…
…Why are her eyes so sad…?
"Come," she gently pulled his to his feet and drew him under her umbrella, shielding him from the rain.
They began walking, the young lady kept him by her side the whole time, away from the rain and safe from every obstacle that threatened to destroy him.
"What is your name?" She smiled down at him.
"Fioré."
"That's pretty," she remarked, pushing a strand of nutmeg hair behind her ear. She was nowhere near elegant and wasn't particularly beautiful. But what drew Fioré close to her were her sad, quiet, manner and the way she made him feel. Safe and secure.
His companion stopped by a hedge of red roses and gently broke a rose off, handing it to him. "I love flowers."
"Yes," Fioré said, a tiny smile forming on his lips for the first time. "They are very pretty."