Dahlia Wellburg hates her misery as much as she loves it. She sees herself as a stone: ordinary and unwanted. Yet, they know her to be a rose: soft, but with thorns.
. . .
Mature Content. Check the tags.
These people make me feel I have a hole in the middle of me."
- D.H. Lawrence. . . .
Dahlia
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Monet, whichever of the two he was, got my boxes dropped off and settled in my living room instead of letting me do that by myself and with the help of Otto. I was grateful.
The whole aesthetic of my apartment was fucked. But, at least I had my Uncle's true legacy.
I went to the shelter the next day, ready to meet whoever was going to adopt Minnie. I was going to cause hell if I didn't think they'd be able to take care of her. I perhaps should have adopted her, but Bobby didn't like kittens. He had barely tolerated Vaness for weeks till they sort of became friends. Minnie wouldn't stand a chance against that chunky ginger bully, and I couldn't be there all the time to supervise.
"He should be here in a few minutes," Maria said. "Try not to scare the poor guy, yeah?"
"Why are you acting like I'm some bully?" I asked, sitting down on the couch of the reception. "I'll just let him know how precious she is."
"Yeah, of course," she said dryly and then looked at the sliding doors as they opened and a man stepped inside.
"There he is." She looked at me. "I dare you to be mean to him. Like really, I'd bet 5 dollars."
"That's a lot of money, Marie." I stood as he approached. He was tall, that was somehow the first thing I noticed, although the rest of him was equally notable. He smiled at us, the corner of his eyes crinkling. He looked a bit younger to me than what Marie had said, with a few streaks of white in his hair. There were a few tattoos that covered his neck and hands, the rest of him was covered with what did look like an expensive suit.
"Hello, ladies." He smiled again. "I was told the home visit will be today." He looked at me and then the smile slipped from his face a bit before he composed himself.
"Oh, Mr. Allard, this is Dahlia, she volunteers here sometimes. She will be coming along for the home visit."
I was?
"Of course. Hello, Dahlia. It's nice to meet you." He shook my hand.
"Likewise," I said, a bit unsettled at how his smile had disappeared. Was he one of the million people my dad had pissed off at some point? He could be. My dad was quick to temper, and insults. It was sometimes entertaining to watch.
"I don't understand," I said to Marie after we led Mr. Allard to where Minnie was playing. I watched like a hawk. He was gentle with her, petting her head every time she grabbed his hand. "If we are supposed to do the home visit, why is he here?"
"He wanted to see her again."
I frowned. That was sweet.
Soon enough, Marie and I were settled in my car following Mr Allard's car to wherever he was leading us. This is a good way to get murdered. But he seemed like a half-decent guy, and all his details were back at the shelter. Killing us would be stupid.
