#flowersandcigs

The palette of his room clashed and quarreled with the variant hues of the flowers now sat within it. The presence of other beings looming about in his personal, private space was — Rym moved a square two pixels to the left — distracting. He trained his gaze on the glowing screen, with the back of his mind furiously aware of someone moving around outside his field of view.

A cluster of grays in front of him melted and mixed together.

Like the same practice he'd done millions of times before, Rym shifted the value of grays up and down, each time expecting a redemption — each time seeing that it hasn't come. He closed his eyes, reopened them, and the shapes were still undefined.

"Um," From behind him, a voice called out.

Rym turned around on his chair. Timir stood there, no flowers in their arms.

"It's done," They continued. "They should be fine next to the window like that. They love water, but not too much, and they appreciate the wind too, just a little. They're still young."

He blinked — thinking.

"The smallest one is Asha. Going clockwise: Evelyn, Alina, Helena, and Nadia."

He followed the words along, looking at each patch of petals standing on the dirt.

Timir smiled, warm and saturated. "They like it when you talk to them."

"Okay." He replied, making sure the tone wasn't too distant. "I remembered it."

"Okay."

The light from the polarized glass shone against his back as if to yell out for his attention. Rym thought about giving in and satisfying it but decided against the idea. Instead, he said, "Thanks."

The smile hasn't left their face, and he might have noticed how their eyes didn't crinkle with it, but he didn't comment.

"I hope you'll be happy with them, and they with you." Timir looked to their right at the door, and made a gesture between a nod and a turn. "Um, so,"

"Ah, yeah." Rym walked up to his front door. With that, he felt like a goodbye had been said.

Timir stepped over the door sill. "Bye."

"Bye." He said it again anyway.

When he turned, his back against the door, Rym almost felt lost. His room now tinted and tainted with shades of flowers. The hues breached and probed into his life — scrutinized his values. They seeped into and saturated him, slowly suffocating him with possibilities.

The squares screamed out from behind the glass pane.

The rainbow circle at the corner of the screen called out to him. Rym looked at it — sounding it out.

With a click on the mouse, he peeked into a window he always knew was there, but never let himself wonder about the world behind it.

128, 168, 139

The green square didn't look too bad.