Categories > Comics > Fables > The Patchwork Quilt
The day started much like any other; Snow felt no need to keep track of holidays she had no reason to celebrate, and Valentine's Day fell quite neatly into that category. Had she taken closer note of the date that morning, it is possible that the flower waiting on her desk that morning wouldn't have caught her as much by surprise as it did. Possible, but not likely.
Certainly, there were a few bouquets from admirers she barely knew, the ones she hadn't felt were worth the trouble of scaring off yet. Long-stemmed red roses and preprinted cards with poems the florist most likely had assured them could melt the heart of any woman they were given to. Meaningless and cluttering, she simply moved them to an out-of-the-way spot away from her desk. It was then that the solitary white gardenia made itself apparent. No note or card, and not presented in any spectacular way, but this only served to make it all the more notable. She picked it up, causing the scent to waft upward. A smile came to her face at the familiar scent.
Memories came to her of days long passed, of lessons she had to sit through day after day when learning all the little details needed to be a proper princess. The meanings of flowers, what each little blossom represents. Certainly, she realized, the sender might not have known all the nuances of the message the gift brought. Possibly just purchased on a whim, one of the more affordable selections in an average florist's shop. But with no note, and on this day, at least one of the hidden messages was accurate, even if it weren't intended. Carefully tucking it into her lapel, she smiled quietly and moved into the day's workload. There were more vital things to think about, but the gentle aroma gave her comfort throughout the day, and kept the stacks of vital documents from causing undue stress.
Returning to her apartment at the end of the day, she carefully removed the flower from her jacket and examined it for several minutes. Making a decision, she took a few thick sheets of paper and several heavy books and set about pressing it to keep it preserved. She wondered, quietly to herself, just who had sent it. Why she hadn't felt any desire to toss it to the side as she had all the others. If the anonymous admirer would ever step forward. Impulsively, she brought the flower to her lips and kissed it before setting it down on the paper in a position that would look appropriate once flattened. She'd just have to wait and see.
Certainly, there were a few bouquets from admirers she barely knew, the ones she hadn't felt were worth the trouble of scaring off yet. Long-stemmed red roses and preprinted cards with poems the florist most likely had assured them could melt the heart of any woman they were given to. Meaningless and cluttering, she simply moved them to an out-of-the-way spot away from her desk. It was then that the solitary white gardenia made itself apparent. No note or card, and not presented in any spectacular way, but this only served to make it all the more notable. She picked it up, causing the scent to waft upward. A smile came to her face at the familiar scent.
Memories came to her of days long passed, of lessons she had to sit through day after day when learning all the little details needed to be a proper princess. The meanings of flowers, what each little blossom represents. Certainly, she realized, the sender might not have known all the nuances of the message the gift brought. Possibly just purchased on a whim, one of the more affordable selections in an average florist's shop. But with no note, and on this day, at least one of the hidden messages was accurate, even if it weren't intended. Carefully tucking it into her lapel, she smiled quietly and moved into the day's workload. There were more vital things to think about, but the gentle aroma gave her comfort throughout the day, and kept the stacks of vital documents from causing undue stress.
Returning to her apartment at the end of the day, she carefully removed the flower from her jacket and examined it for several minutes. Making a decision, she took a few thick sheets of paper and several heavy books and set about pressing it to keep it preserved. She wondered, quietly to herself, just who had sent it. Why she hadn't felt any desire to toss it to the side as she had all the others. If the anonymous admirer would ever step forward. Impulsively, she brought the flower to her lips and kissed it before setting it down on the paper in a position that would look appropriate once flattened. She'd just have to wait and see.
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