home improvement.
She continues an opinion she’d initially conveyed virtually, a text message theretofore seen and unanswered. She had decided her stance required physical expression to truly be understood, hence the steps she had taken, outpacing his own as she dragged him to his workplace. She had made a habit out of spontaneous appearances and seemingly unavoidable propositions, unfazed by protest or rebuttal no matter its validity. To her, it was only a practical environment that met an agreeable standard, though it didn’t go beyond that, despite the opportunity being available.
She thinks this seemingly incommunicable, too, however. What she had envisioned for the space was easily malleable, she believed. That same conviction decided their local depot to be the utmost priority on the list of errands she’d mentally compiled. There’s a flurry of repetitive promises insisting that it wouldn’t take them long though she is but a serial oath-breaker in this regard. She wanders almost listlessly throughout the aisles, keeping him in tow with the insurance of five fingers’ absentminded coalescence. “I do think it’s a nice space, by the way. I never said that it wasn’t.” She does not consider calling something drab as something being not nice. There’s a tenderness emulating the smile that she bears him, winking.
“I also think ... it could be better, no?” She raises her index finger, forbidding any potential interruption. “The office is the real first impression you make on your clientele. It’s how you communicate sophistication and how serious you are about a task.” She’s read that somewhere, though he needn’t know about her paraphrasing. “I’m thinking...” Her fingers wiggle about, hand raised, using the air as a medium to conjure whatever pigment she’d thought best.
“I’m thinking a nice, deep red. Oh — or a blue. Or green. Or beige.” Something illuminates in her eyes, a revelation clear enough to make her gasp, countenance delightfully overcome. “It is beige! I can see it. And then we can have teal curtains. In my mind, the rug is a completely different color, by the way. Not what it is now.” She spares him a glance, nodding promptly before returning to the fantasy she’d amassed vocally. “New rug, curtains, paintings...”
She’s tapped her chin, steadied on her heel, wordlessly mulling over what other adornment she had not yet mentioned. It occurs to her almost shockingly, gaze alight again as she’s grabbed both of his hands tightly. “Flowers, Shinwon. Flowers.”
@feyshinwon
