Pouting Petals

Pouting Petals

This is in response to the April Writing Prompts found at:


“Stop pouting for crying out loud.” Leonard gazed out the large bay window facing the southern garden.

“For crying out loud? You’re kidding me Leonard.”

“Sorry that was ill placed verbiage, my apologies. It’s merely a thunderstorm! It’ll be gone by noon.”

“And my work along with it.”

“Perhaps this is a sign.”

“You’re not helpful in the least. And stop being so nonchalant.” Paul wiped his glasses on his shirt, an action he knew would irritate Leonard. All the better.

“Think about it. You set up flower petals all night long. It was supposed to be sunny.”

“I know what I’ve done.”

“Let me finish.”

“Go on. The sooner you finish your sentence the quicker I can continue crying about it.”

“You want to marry Sylvia, you say. You set up hundreds of flower petals in the shape of a heart. Then it rains. I’m no Nostradamus but think about it.”

As if on cue, the door burst open. “Paul! Is it true?”

The two men quickly swiveled to see a rosy cheeked Sylvia; a dripping umbrella propped opened at her side.

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” Paul shifted.

“I’m quite ashamed, but I’ve been listening to your conversation.”

“Oh, dear.” Leonard looked, for once, stunned speechless.

She continued, “I ran over to help you cover the garden, its going to hail, they say.” Leonard looked at Paul as if to say, first rain, now hail? “But I’m afraid I’ve caught you off guard.”

Paul fumbled in his inner jacket pocket, a lone petal slowly drifting to the floor. “Then this is the moment then, my love.” He got down on his knee and pulled out a ring box. She answered yes before seeing the ring.

Paul said, “I don’t think Nostradamus could have predicted this old chap.” And smiled lovingly to his new fiancé.

“At least there will be no more pouting over petals.”

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