Heartbeats [ON HOLD]

three | strawberry

✧❀ strawberry ❀✧

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☽

Monday morning comes around just as Medha finishes working on the final touches on everything she's made for Noor.

Yawning, she rubs at her eyes, swiftly sweeping up all the scrap cloth on her floors and tucking it away into a corner to be thrown away later.

Normally, she would spend more time cleaning up, or at least attempting to, but today, she's meeting Noor. She's meeting Noor, who though she's only spoken to for a few hours, seems exactly like the type to get at least mildly upset with her if she's late— not a seething anger kind of upset, more of a disappointed kind. So she can't afford to waste any time on something so trivial as cleaning.

Besides, ever since Friday, she's been itching to see Noor again.

She doesn't know why exactly; maybe it's because Noor seemed, and still seems, like a lovely person to talk to, or maybe it's mainly for superficial reasons and nothing else, her honey voice and honey eyes and honey skin being the sole motivator.

Either way, she wants to see her again. It isn't a need— she hasn't had much of a need for anything, really— but it's an aching, wrenching want that she's desperate to fulfill.

Carefully, Medha picks up all the things she made for Noor and places them into a small purple bag— a few miscellaneous crocheted fruits that serve no purpose, if she's being honest, a tablecloth that she prays will fit Noor's table, a simple set of coasters for her teacups, and the same purple bag that she's been packing everything in.

Two days ago, she had wondered if it was too much. If she was doing too much, if she was making too many things for Noor, someone who may not even want to spend any more time with her once she really gets to know her, if she was giving so much that Noor may not even appreciate it.

But later, she realised that there isn't anything like too much good. And if she wants to give Noor a lot more than what she'll be expecting, she should be allowed to. Because there's never too much of something good.

Letting out a content hum, she smiles to herself, blinking harshly to avoid sleep from pulling her under as she slings the bag over her shoulder and leaves her home, opting to walk to the market rather than take her bicycle, as she usually would.

Over the past three days, it seems as though a lot of things that she's been doing have been far from what she would usually do.

Usually, she would visit the main market on Thursdays, not Mondays, because Thursdays are when the fancy little baking supplies are transported from the neighbouring towns into Farmond, all ones that aid her in her own baking.

Usually, she would get a good seven hours of sleep each night, wake up bright and early to the sunrise and the rooster crowing and the sunlight streaming into her bedroom, striking the crystals that she splurged on a year ago.

Usually, she would get some more sleep if she isn't well-rested enough to make a two mile walk.

Usually, she wouldn't spend three whole nights knitting under clear midnight skies for someone with stars in their eyes.

But now, instead of doing all those things and sticking to routine, she's walking to the market with nothing in hand except the purple bag that seems to match the equally purple flowers on the soil beside her.

Rolling her shoulders back, she continues her walk through the uneven pathways, hopping over streams that are narrow enough to cross and skipping over stones that are typically home to squirrels as she does everything in her power to keep herself awake.