By Kismet

Ariel Fitzpatrick: People always take things for granted. It's not like they want to, they just can't help it. It was in their nature. Humans were humans after all. Overlooking the precious things in life - or life itself - was something everyone passed through at least once in their lives. I didn't know why yet I understood somewhat.

I was the only exception though. I didn't take things for granted, no. I was happy about everything like tomorrow was the last day. And I thanked God as often as I could. I guess I'm not part of the "people" which is fine because I've never really been anyway. I liked to think it made me unique which in turn meant special. Yeah, we'll leave it at special then?



In her haste to get out of the house, Rose not only managed to forget to take a coat but she also left her purse, which was literally two pieces of cloth expertly sewn together in a technique Aunt Georgia claimed she invented. One of the cloths was longer than the other so that it could overlap at the gap where the two didn't meet. At the end, a pin of some sort was attached to keep contents from falling out.

Surprisingly, it was a pretty close resemblance to the store-bought purses Rose's blue eyes couldn't help but linger on every time she passed them. Rose smiled at the image of Georgia's stubborn frown as she tried to convince Rose that it was her idea that made it possible to make a DIY purse. She was hell-bent on calling herself the Martha Stewart of her times which Rose would nod her head along with just to get her to stop talking.

Sadness befell Rose's happy reverie and she heaved a sigh. I do hope you get better soon, Georgia. she thought, walking through the morning haze. It was an hour passed dawn yet the streets were bare and only the occasional early bird walked down the road. With no money or protection from the cold, Rose's calm was threatening to go over the edge and put her in panic mode. She tried rubbing her arms continuously but it was futile; a lit match can only do so much against a howling wind. To keep her mind off of the numbing cold, Rose focused on where she was heading.

Having passed the grocery store two blocks ago, she had roughly ten more blocks to get to Finney's Flower Shop. She chewed on her pale lips and willed her feet to move the remaining distance. Oh, Georgia, she thought once again, gloomily. Rose was well aware of the situation she would be in if Georgia's case got worse. Alejandro would become her sole responsibility and she had to take on innumerable jobs to provide for the both of them. As mature and experienced as Rose thought she was, she knew she was not ready for that kind of burden. God please don't let her die. she prayed, her eyes watering. She wiped them away with cold hands, the wind harshly attacking the wet trail on her cheeks. She's like a mother to me. she continued, the fever of her spiritual intention warming her up inside.

Don't let me lose her.

A pile of snow covered the entrance to the shop that Rose was standing in front of. She wiped away a stray tear and took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself like she always did before work. Hopefully, work would keep her from having a mental breakdown.

"Here goes." she muttered and pushed open the door, the jingle of the bell alerting the shop of her presence.

"Who are you?" asked a male voice immediately and she looked around until she saw a man behind the counter. He had on a green apron with the store's logo printed across the center with a matching cap. He didn't have any winter wear except for the long sleeved turtle-necked sweater made out of dark beige wool. His eyes were rimmed with a pair of horned glasses and his hair was cropped at the sides, leaving the top to fall over his ears and forehead. His lips were in a very thin line, so thin that Rose had trouble pointing them out. It had on a frown and it was aimed right at her.

"Uh, I'm filling in for Georgia?" Rose answered unsurely, standing awkwardly near the door. She shuffled her feet around in hopes to get rid of the shiver that ran up her legs. The inside of the shop was relatively warmer than where she had come from and she welcomed the humid air greedily. Cupping her hands in front of her mouth, Rose blew hot air into them, rubbing them to distribute the heat.

"Yeah? And who are you?" He didn't seem to be looking at her and she noticed he was busy carving something out of paper. Her eyes were glued to what he was doing and she noticed she inched closer for a better view.

"I'm her...niece." she said absentmindedly, her attention on his craftwork. The man looked up when he caught her moving forward and gave her a questioning glare that surprisingly didn't seem to faze her. She couldn't blame him for not believing her words right off the bat. Aunt Georgia and her didn't look alike at all. Rose had black curls sprouting out of her head while Georgia had straight dark brown hair, a lot of gray streaks now mixed in as well. Their eyes weren't the same color or shape and the eyelashes were a prominent difference. But it was normal to not look like her aunt; she had her parents' genetics after all.

Rose had no idea what her parents looked like though. Just four months after she was born, Rose was sent to the local orphanage and lived there up until she turned five. Three months after her birthday, Rose was adopted by what she later learned, was her aunt. It was her piercing blue eyes, her silky shoulder-length black hair and the snowflake necklace that was dangling right above her small thighs that did it. Rose was apparently the spitting image of her biological mother. Aunt Georgia swore to it, her word taken seriously by the board in charge. It was more to do with how she had been an asset to them for the past twenty two years but Rose liked to believe she was just an honest person at heart.

"Very well." the owner said, grabbing an apron from the back room. "You need to organize these flowers to match the picture I stuck on the side of the pot." he instructed and she realized that was what he was so engrossed in. "When you're done, place them in that pile over there." He quickly pointed at a spot full of arranged potted plants. "Good luck." he concluded in the same dull tone walking to the back room and locking the door.

"Thank you!" Rose replied zealously for she was a zealous person. She threw on the apron expertly and rubbed her hands together excitedly. At first she had trouble but in time (about 20 minutes, give or take) she got the hang of it. It was rather simple once you knew what you were doing. When she was done her last pot she didn't put it in the pile like all the others but left it aside to admire.

She bent her head and pulling her hair behind her ear, Rose dragged in a breath through her nose and smiled at the smell. She didn't have a favourite flower (she liked to treat things equally) but daffodils were considered a high preference. Mostly because she could make wished on them when she passed through the garden on her way to work most days.

Taking another whiff, Rose basked in its comforting aroma until her nose started to itch. She jerked her head back and rubbed her nose, which was turning pink now. She tried to balance the pot in one hand but that decision proved stupid when it teetered on its uneven bottom, threatening to tip over. Desperately trying to hold on to it with her slim fingers, Rose maneuvered herself backwards until her foot met something solid. Her body chose that moment to let out a loud sneeze which completely knocked her off of her feet.

"What happened?!" yelled the owner, who by now Rose knew as Charles Finney. She had heard him say his name when he picked up the phone, presuming it to be a customer. The name suited him perfectly and she couldn't imagine him being named anything else.

"I'm so sorry!" Rose cried apologetically, painfully standing to her full five foot seven height. Although his question was rhetorical and he could clearly see what had happened with his own brown eyes, Rose answered him anyway.

"I sneezed and fell and--"she grabbed the pot of daffodils and held it out to the man. Charles didn't say anything for a second, his face just rapidly going magenta. Rose placed the pot on the floor and when she fearfully looked up through her eyelashes, she saw that he was visibly shaking.

"Char--"

"Out." He muttered in a hard, inaudible voice cutting her off.

"-les, are you--"

"OUT!" He bellowed. "Fired. FIRED!" He chased a horror-struck Rose out of the store as she desperately tried to explain how he couldn't exactly fire her for a job that wasn't hers. But Finney wasn't listening and so, she dejectedly walked out of the store, reducing her protests into silent whispers.

Crestfallen, Rose made her way to the local cafe where she worked part-time. She felt really bad for getting Georgia fired and didn't know if she had the heart to break it to her. She'll find out soon enough. she told herself, dressing into the cafe's pink maids' dress uniform.

"Rose!"

She shook out of her trance and carried the ordered meal to the requested table. After all that happened that morning, she needed to stay sharp and not get fired from two jobs in the same day. The pay wasn't high but it was better than nothing. It helped and that's what she was trying to do, she was trying to help.

But she couldn't help but keep those luminous thoughts off of her mind for too long.

A broken glass, two spilled coffees and a busted cashier later, Rose was back on the streets with nothing but more guilt, sorrow and tears for company. She never knew how much she took her waitress job for granted. She figured she'd always have it, that it was a permanent thing in her life. It was steady.

But now that she got fired, Rose realized just how much she overlooked the good things in life. Decidedly, she wandered aimlessly around under the moonlight without a destination to clear her head. She had to go home and face the bedridden body of Georgia sooner or later. Resignedly, she turned on her heel and headed home, using the time she had to think of how she would phrase her words of apology.



I guess I'm not so different after all.