It’s the flowers that change Eddie’s life.
They begin to dot his apartment slowly–the blues and yellows and greens.
He comes home, finds you watering something green that dangles over the edge of it’s pot. He walks up to you, wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your cheek.
“Hey, baby,” he murmurs.
Your free hand finds his forearm, squeezes. “Hi.”
He can hear the smile in your voice.
“What’s this one called again?” He asks, chin resting on your shoulder.
“It’s a string of pearls.”
He kisses your neck–a soft thing, looks around his windowsill and takes in the hydrangeas, the daisies, the succulents–names you had taught him–and smiles.
It’s definitely the flowers that have changed him.
x
It’s the creativity that changes Eddie’s life.
Eddie comes home to find you hunched in the floor in front of the window, paper flat in front of you, with your oil pastels spread around you.
Eddie leans down, presses a kiss to your head before sitting on the couch behind you.
“Whatcha working on, pretty girl?”
You grin at him over your shoulder. “It’s a surprise.”
“Oh?” Eddie hums.
“Mhm.”
Eddie leans back, content just to watch you work.
x
It’s the beginning of fall when his life changes again.
As Eddie looks around his empty apartment, he thinks that on second thought, maybe it’s just you that changed his life.
And he lost you.