selah

These blooms are already dying, their ends lacquered to prolong the illusion of vitality.

“From one of the inner worlds,” a hum, lilting, “There are specialists— preservationists— on Chusuk who’ve made a business of reviving relics. These died out, officially, four centuries ago.”

She had, in fact, acquired them months earlier— a commission executed with the clandestine care of trafficking contraband, for all that they were only flora. Paid double to ensure the shipment was routed directly to her; triple for anonymity. In another life, Vera would have presented them with some wry joke about smuggling, but she suspects Selah would take it literally. She doesn’t say: They were always meant for you.

“I was told the color blue was the rarest. That it means—” and stops herself, a refrain from betraying that she’d researched floral symbolism because it pretended to be poetry, “Well. I hope they will make your quarters more lively.”

As she is lowered from her flowers to admire them, she is yanked from her thoughts. That it means— That it means what? She tries not to display too much visible curiosity, but her widened eyes are hard to miss. She raises the petals to her nose again, her gaze lowering off to look at the floor rather than the flowers or Vera.

She can't bear to look at her now without dissolving into a blushing puddle.

"Yes, they'll really... They'll certainly brighten my quarters." If they ever leave her grasp long enough. She thinks she may simply carry them around forever, twirling them and holding them close to her chest.

LUMENIST — noun. follower of a new age spiritual movement, commonly designated a cult, known for the mass suicide of its followers.

A LIST OF CASUAL YET INTIMATE INTERACTIONS.

@lumenist : [ BACK ] sender grabs receiver's wrist and tugs them closer when receiver tries to walk away.

the touch on his wrist startles him. already turned away from her, he has half a mind to pull his arm away from whatever stranger must likely have grabbed his wrist, because selah would never . . . yet looking back over his shoulder siegfried realizes with shock that it is indeed her who is holding him. he hadn't expected selah to touch him, with what she's been taught about men and all. furrowing his brow he turns back around to face her.

Imagined safety went to the wind when a group of teenage boys—some youth sports group—scattered around the place. They shout, record one another on their phones, dance. Something about it all sets her off, makes her heart pound in her chest.

She needs a moment. A breath. To step outside.

Thank God Siegfried is there.

Changed her mind about—No... Had she really just done that? She jerks her hand away and wipes the palm on her skirt, eyes wide. She wraps her fingers around the strap of her purse and shifts it rests like a shield between them. Her cheeks turn pink, and she forces a smile.