Blind Dates by Harambee K. Grey-Sun

Author:Harambee K. Grey-Sun [Grey-Sun, Harambee K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HyperVerse Books, LLC

Violets Are Cruel

An intense scent of rose caught Blakely by surprise when he rushed through the theater’s backdoor exit. A brief coughing fit further slowed his pursuit.

He had expected fresh air. He’d also expected to spend a nice Saturday afternoon at the movies with his current girlfriend, not for them to get into an argument in the middle of an unfunny romcom.

Yazmin had stormed out of the theater, undoubtedly stomping on a few toes in her path. After some hesitation, and with more care for his footsteps, he followed—though he remained unsure what he’d say to her.

He’d have more time to think about it. There was no sign of her on the red brick sidewalk on his side or across the street. No signs of anyone else either.

The late spring breeze, however, was blowing from his left, carrying Yazmin’s floral perfume.

Blakely called her name as he turned into the wind, making an extra effort to breathe as he proceeded alongside a cobblestone roadway—one apparently closed to traffic.

He hadn’t been on this side of the theater before—had never seen this street—but the eighteenth-century Georgian-style and nineteenth-century Victorian-style buildings were reminiscent of the historic district of a town he knew well. The home of his alma mater.

Presently, he passed the same types of establishments he’d frequented or strolled past in his college days, with a different girl on his arm each time. An antique store, a candy shop, a bookstore, a flower shop, a coffeehouse . . .

None were open for business. Odd for a Saturday afternoon.

As odd as the disappearing act the sun had pulled while he and Yazmin had been in the theater. The forecast had said nothing of rain. But the overcast sky appeared as if it had been in place for a while.

Every so often, a random drop hit upon his forehead or arms. He hadn’t an umbrella and saw no place to purchase one. If the clouds suddenly opened . . .

The plants would be happy at least. A box stuffed with flowers and greenery adorned every other window he passed. To be admired by other passersby, perhaps. To Blakely, they were diversions.

Each time he picked up another hint of rose, he glanced about, searching for any sign of Yazmin while ultimately scanning the flowers, looking for any actual roses that might be misleading him.

The window boxes were as free of roses as the street and sidewalks were of people. No vehicles. No stray bicycles. The breezes carried no human chatter, no sounds of motors, not even a bird’s chirrup.

The only signs of life were the flowers, all of them out of his reach, waving and bobbing in the air’s currents.

Blakely wound himself through a labyrinth of narrow and narrower streets and alleys, calling Yazmin’s name, calling for a response from anyone, hoping to outpace the impending rain as he passed buildings that all looked alike, until he found himself on a street lined with squat, brightly colored buildings.

He walked slowly, an uneasy smile spreading under his

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