morning flowers

His alarm had been yelling at him since 5:30am and still he refused to awaken.  Even when he sleeps with the purpose of waking up early, he ends up rushing to work with a half a cup of coffee spilling as he rushes down the steps of his apartment building.  The fresh Peonies that sit out on the dining room table are pink, white and purple.  They shine in the morning light that comes through the vertical blinds.  He stood there winding up his designer tie.  The stress of his morning is exacerbated by the time crunch.  But the succulence of the flowers doesn’t go unnoticed.  He paused to admire their color and smell them.  The scent of them still occupying his nostrils as he bolts out of the door.

There was a moment in the day, amidst the whirlwind of printer paper and suits.  A moment where he sat staring straight ahead, as if he was looking off into the distance even though there was no expanse in front of him.  He referred back to the morning when he was admiring the flowers.  His heart settled and his mind slowed its pace to a saunter.

The flowers were the first thing he looked for as he arrived home from work.

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