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Mr. Mullock's Flowers

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Mr. Mullock's Flowers She looked at the car as it disappeared in a cloud of dust, and knew that things would never be the same again. She thought to herself 'don't cry Laura, please not here.' She stood rigidly by the patio of her house and gazed expressionlessly as the dust settled back on the road. She looked straight ahead of the street at the garden. The Mulloks' had taken good care of their garden. Since the past five months she had moved into the neighborhood, Mr. Mullok, though his arthritis got him bad, religiously made sure he pruned the hedges every week, and watered his flowers every afternoon. The trees gently swayed. It would be a rainy Sunday night she thought gazing at the sky. " 'afternoon Mrs. Sanders - rain comin' in tonight, I reckon." It was Mr. Mullok dressed in his familiar light blue shirt tucked into his neatly pressed grey trousers. For a man of 50, he was in amazing shape. His grey hair neatly combed to the side in an old fashion and his white moustache impeccably trimmed. "Looks like it," Laura hollered across. "Got a parcel?" Mr. Mullock yelled out shifting his gaze to her arms. She had momentarily forgotten about what she was clutching so tightly to her chest. ...read more.


His fitting black shirt accentuated the broad expanse of his chest -he worked out in the gym everyday even after their marriage. He had short black hair, thick neat eyebrows and light brown eyes. His aquiline nose gave him a sort of roman look. His smile flashed a set of perfectly lined teeth. His whole physic was bursting with energy, power, and with life. She remembered paying for that coffeepot with him standing behind her in the cue knowing she would make coffee for him in that very pot - and she did; every morning after they got married a week later. Well when had the coffee started becoming so bitter? When she started smelling the new perfume of another woman? Restaurant bills of dinners shed never eaten? When had his gym evenings suddenly become longer? When had his kisses, lost their warmth and just become obligatory acts of light kisses on the cheek. When had even that, altogether stopped? Five months later she had known, the brown envelope she held in her hands was inevitably coming. She felt a dull ache in her heart, which ironically reminded her about her mother. Her mother was always a mystery to her. She had always spoken little and when she had, she always said the most incomprehensible things. ...read more.


Laura looked at the healthy flowers. They would still eventually die. Hadn't she given Ted all her love? How many nights had she gazed at her reflection in the mirror and wondered what she was doing wrong? She had tried to love him even more, love him completely and genuinely but it always seemed to her that there was a defect - he'd never really cared to appreciated her love. No matter how many times Mr. Mullock watered those plants; they wouldn't care less would they? Mr. Mullock came back out from the shed and steadily walked back into his house. Laura actually felt sorry for him them. He somewhat reminded her of a clown. She wondered whether he knew his plants got their water when it rained -every day that was. It was more like they transpired the water he gave them yet he still staunchly watered them. "Nothing lasts forever, Mr. Mullok - what a waste " she muttered. She slowly shut the drapes then went to the door and picked up all the papers. Sitting on the table, she stared listlessly into the air for a while. Tears simultaneously rolled down her cheeks but she made no sound. After a while, she dried her tears with the back of the palm and got a pen from the drawer. Slowly but firmly she signed her name at the bottom where her signature was required "Laura Smithson" ...read more.

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