Pansies

He always breathed through his mouth. Old habit. Perhaps from years of broken noses as a kid. Long story. Don't ask. But by chance he opened his nostrils this time and caught a beautiful fragrance like a dazzling woman. Only there were no women near him. The sweet aroma was a bed of pansies behind him, unnoticed until time and space brought the perfect breeze through their perfect petals and into his perfect inhaling breath. Oh sweet smell return to me, he thought, while looking over his shoulder at the colorful petals.

He sat reading the most fascinating book, smiling at least once on every page. It was early January but surprisingly warm. Only a hint of chill after sitting on the patio the past hour. He was listening to a collection of history's finest classical masterpieces. He wished he smoked. It's what people usually do who sit outside Starbucks. Anyway, he thought it would look distinguished, mature, to puff a cigarette, leaning back, feet propped up on the chair before him. People would walk by and see the young "gentleman", clean-shaven, deliberately messy hair and stylish clothing, and they would think wow, how exotic he makes that cigarette look. Like a new-age Marlboro man.

Soon Marlboro man woosed out and couldn't quite hold the imaginary cigarette without his whole arm shaking. When did it get so cold!? Luckily the bustling crowd inside had died down. In fact, when he put his cigarette out and walked inside he was the only patron in there. He nestled himself into the one true corner of the sitting area, a favorite spot of his because it protected him on two sides. Something he needed when closing his mind to the world and freefalling back into his books. Mostly it meant people wouldn't be walking by him so much, and typically left him alone altogether.

He smiled and perhaps laughed a few times journeying through the next chapter. He would glance up from time to time in case someone was staring at the crazy, smiley guy in the corner. Not that he would do anything about it. After all he did look pretty crazy sometimes. But still he wanted to know if he was someone else's free entertainment. There were a few people sitting near him now, but none paid him any attention. Then the door opened. He wouldn't have known it but for the breeze bringing the smell of pansies to his nose again. But something was different about the fragrance this time. It had a steamy, flirtatious bite to it. He glanced over towards the door and saw the reason why. Pansies it was not. Dazzling woman it most certainly was. Well, young woman. Don't get me wrong; a guy can appreciate older women. I know plenty of them. Hot ones. I swear to God! But this one was more his age, better suiting his personal preference. Early twenties. Dressed to kill. What the hell was a bombshell like that doing in here? And alone for chrissake!  Eyes like diamonds. Oh yes, you could see those sparkly gems from across the room alright.

She knew. They always know when you're lookin. He eyed her like a pubescent teen in the magazine section at Kroger. Finally seeing something for the first time, and realizing it is very very nice. They made eye contact. Damn! He wanted to pull away before that happened. He skimmed the line too close and got caught. He shot his eyes back to his book. Could have been upside down for all he really noticed. Luckily it wasn't.

Oh well he thought. Blew that one. Looked like a total idiot. Man I need one of those cool cigarettes right about now. Who wants a girl you can smell from across the room anyhow? Would give you a headache or kill you before you could get close enough to kiss her. Screw that.

That's what he was thinking until she sat at the table next to him. Whole damn room to themselves, she picks the table next to him! She's trying to kill me, he thought, second hand smoke or some shit. Really wish I had that cigarette. I'd show her.

Thing is, sitting next to him, she smelled like angels oughtta smell. Least, that's the thought he had, remembering Marv say that in Sin City about Goldie. He re-adjusted the way he was sitting, like he was uncomfortable or something. He just wanted a closer wiff of the two-legged bouquet.  He leaned too far and fell out of the chair! I'm just kidding. Got the balance of a cat, he does. He cleared his throat a little, you know, so his voice wouldn't crack if he got the courage to say something to her. Then he had to wait, cause now she might be expecting him to say something cause he cleared his throat. Plus he had to think of something witty to say. That could take hours. And that meant he'd have to clear his throat again. And then wait a few minutes, again, after clearing it, again.