The Rose In The Background
Chapter Two
"The Hatted Fool"
I know how you'll all see me, and I don't blame you. But don't look down on me for what I try to avoid. I never really made an effort into dating or finding a mate, mostly because I never saw it as a major priority in my life. Over the years, dozens of my friends had found their special someone. I'm happy for them, why wouldn't I be? Everyone deserves happiness, just like every flower deserves its share of water and sunlight.
The evening came with the storm, bringing rain and thick, dark clouds over head. My poor flowers would defiantly drown in the growing waters of the rain, with no signs of sunlight either. There were many more I kept inside, but the ones I grew in the fresh air and earth I kept close to my heart. Naturally grown was always the way my mother grew her flowers. There were dozens around my home. Many kinds; roses, sunflowers, tulips, poppies. They sat in their individual pots and sulked, staring out the window as if saddened by the rainfall.
They weren't the only ones. I sat by the window as well, laying my chin on the arm rest of my favorite chair and counting the many drops as they slide down the glass. I imagined every two were in their own little race, starting from the moment they hit the window and as they made their way down, merging with the others for more speed. I began to count them, trying to take my mind off of him.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of other things, the first of them being how I was going to pay this month's rent with my stand doing so poorly this season? I cursed the rain, being a flower mare is never easy when it comes to bad weather. Perhaps I should ask Lyra or Bon Bon if I could help around their candy shop, maybe Pinkie can throw me a line over at Sugarcube Corner. I wonder if he...Ugh!
It was then as I raised a hoof to my forehead and let out a frustrated sigh that I realized I could no longer fight back his presence behind my foolish thoughts of rain drops and financial issues. I turned over and laid on my back, staring up at the rose colored and letting out a long sigh which gave me shivers. I hated it, but liked it at the same time. My heart can't ignore what my head tells me to leave alone.
That...hatted fool. I didn't even know his name and yet something brought up some sort of interest? He's just some random stallion, probably doesn't even live in town. He looks to majestic to live among ponies like us.
"Probably has a big house up in Canterlot..." I spoke aloud, then looked around. Another sigh escaped my lips. The stallion had brought some sort of energy out of me, causing me to talk to myself. What was it about him? What made him different than any other stallion I've ever seen? He was watching me this afternoon while at our stalls. He looked like he was lost in some kind of daydream. I must have startled him due to his sudden realization involving him knocking over some of his equipment. He was watching me, and I liked it. Sometimes I would wonder if he always did. Maybe he does, and this time I caught him.
The way his face lit up, the way he lost balanced as our eyes met...
I hugged myself, a smile tugging at my lips. I couldn't help it, he was just so...adorable? Cute? How can I describe him? I couldn't think of the word, perhaps it's because I don't even know him at all. I just know him as the fancy stallion who runs the stall across from mine. The way he looked so entranced while he stared, I wonder what he was thinking about that made him so startled as he can to?
I had never spoken to him, not a word. Not even a subtle wave, or a simple hello. Only occasionally our glances would meet, he would hide behind his stall and I'd stay behind mine. He always seems so seclusive, always keeping to himself. I would never find him anywhere else, not at the grocery store, the bakery, the park. But everyday I run my flower stall, he was there.
His golden brown eyes gazing into mine from only a few yards away, his brown fur, his cute fancy top hat resting atop his head. I wondered what kind of mane he had. Was it matted and messy? Or maybe it was short, neat and tidy like all of those Canterlot ponies? Did he have an accent? You would think I was a filly with her first crush, hearing me obsessed over something as feeble as looks and accents.
What hobbies did he partake in? Those watches and hats, did he make them? Was he a craftier, was his home not one of riches but of self created master pieces? Were the walls cover with his own paintings that had showered him with bits from all of those art collectors and fellow artists? Maybe instead of paintings, he has a closet filled with the most handsome hoof weaved suits, tuxedos and possibly...dresses?
Maybe he would make me a dress... I foalishly thought. ...maybe one covered in rose petals and the fabric an ivory green...
What if he thought about me...I would ask myself, immediately doubting it and casting it aside. Just thinking this sends an all new shiver to my spine, making me arch my back slightly. Why would he be thinking of me, a mare who can barely keep up with the rent let alone a relationship? Why would-
My thoughts were cut off by the sound of my door bell, followed by several knocks. I rise up from my chair and approach the red door, opening to two familiar faces.