'Blessed be those at peace for they shall tend to the earth' or
'love is blind in a junk yard'
Ok! It is not the original quote, but in Mookin’s case, it has resonance in creating a bit of relief to his new job. In the best traditions of ‘fiction’ you need to imagine that this is ‘a few moments later’ and that the garden has achieved a miraculously quick transformation.
In the execution of this ‘miracle’ Mookin also achieves a sense of transformation, and at such times, anything is possible?
𝗔 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗴𝘆 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁
If you thought that only Jane Austin or one of the Bronte ladies could right tension-filled, (only a bit), romance……………..you’re probably correct, but what the heck! Mook deserves a bit of love.
At 1:00 PM, Elara decided to take a walk from her desk in the office. Still thinking about ‘what to do with Mookin’ she decided to take a look for herself.
That's where she first saw Mook. He smelled of freshly turned soil, thyme, and damp moss. A promising beginning?
He was crouched low, his attention fixed on a patch of roses pushing through the mulch. Elara watched, a paper-clip twirling forgotten in her hand. He didn't seem to notice her at all; his focus was absolute and gentle.
She cleared her throat, pulling his attention up to her.
"They're beautiful," she said, nodding toward the flowers. Her voice, usually sharp, felt strangely soft.
Mook smiled, a slow, genuine lift of his lips that deepened the fine lines around his eyes.
"They are. They need a bit more water." He stood, wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek with the back of a hand.
"I’m Mook."
"Elara," she replied, suddenly feeling overdressed in her crisp, slate-grey suit. She thought of her sterile desk, the click-clack of her keyboard, the insistent drone of Grump, grumping, and then looked at his hands - strong, scarred, and completely covered in oil, toilet cleaner, and fertiliser. It was a heady mix.
"You look like you belong up there," Mook said, gesturing a thumb towards her office building.
Elara laughed, a short, self-deprecating sound. "Only from 9 to 5. I look out of that window all day," she pointed to the window and see very little light.”
Mook stepped closer, the earthy scent of him a warm contrast to the chilled air starved experience of her world. He reached out and gently passed her a freshly picked rose.
She smiled.
He blushed.
"Well," he said, his gaze fixed on hers, “come and watch the flowers with me.” She felt the tension of her morning - the deadlines, the endless emails simply fell away.
Settling on the low stone wall beside him she let the sun warm her face and the quiet hum of the garden replace the roar of the city.
For the next half-hour, they didn't talk much. Just a little about the silence in the mornings and the dreams you can't quite catch. When Elara finally had to leave, she brushed lightly against him as she stood up, sending a tiny electric spark through the air between her suit and the soil.
"See you tomorrow, Elara?" Mook questioned hopefully. As he turned back to his work, his eyes promised more than a casual goodbye.
Elara didn't reply.
She walked back toward her office, but she walked more slowly this time. When she got to her desk, she noticed a tiny fleck of brown earth clinging to the cuff of her jacket - a small piece of the garden, as a beautiful butterfly landed softly on her desk.
What a good memory to take her to the end of the tedium of the day.
Strangely, the office seemed brighter when she sat down at her desk, and she was even pleased to see Grump.
