"What are you trying to say?" I giggle and sign.
"Just watch my words, okay? I know you know it, you just don't get it coming from me," he signs back to me.
He points towards his heart, then crosses his arms over his chest, before uncrossing them to...
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Evelyn
A beautiful morning on our small patch of land is exactly what I love, and I was extra excited for today. After getting used to living here, I've come to realise that the nature around our house is beautiful. I've always had a deep love for flowers, and I feel extremely lucky to be in a home that has so many nearby. Because of this epiphany, I've started making bouquets every few days to leave in the dining room. They add a beautiful pop of colour to the room.
As I make my way downstairs after I finish my morning routine (a glass of water and moisturising my face, before getting my clothes out for the day), I am met with one curly headed man sitting on the couch.
Hearingmy footsteps, he turns his head over to look at me, waving a hello and offering me tea. I gladly accepted, before I followed him into the kitchen. As he turns back on the kettle and grabs a tea bag, I grab our whiteboard and write out 'How did you sleep?'. Once he is done making my cuppa, he sees the board and writes back. I adore this. When he went into town a few days ago, he came home with potato crisps and a whiteboard. I was utterly confused, until he wrote down 'We can talk now', with a huge smile plastered on his face. It was an incredible gesture, one I never thought he would make.
I read 'It was fine, the birds had me up at the crack of dawn. Need to stop sleeping with the window open,' once he turned the board around. I laughed a bit at this, finding it insane that he sleeps with the window open. Even though we live in the sunny countryside of the city, the London fog still creeps in when dusk overcomes us, meaning it gets unbelievably cold overnight.
We talked a little more, before he eventually let me know he had to go in to work. Which caught me by surprise, solely because I realised I didn't know what he did for a job. I finally asked him, after thinking about what to say for way longer than I needed to.
Taking the board, I asked him; 'what do you do for a living?'
He laughed a little when he read that, and then wrote down 'I have a bookstore'.
My eyes widened and a grin quickly grew on my face. I have an insane love for books. They have been my escape from the world since I was 5 years old, and they always will be. My favourite book is probably Love Is A Mixtape. It sounds dumb, because it revolves around music, but it is so much more than that. A book about someone navigating his lost love and grief through music is something I've never read anything like. And, I love to imagine what the music sounds like.
'I love reading. What's your favourite book?' I write to him.
'Definitely Love Is A Mixtape. But also, the classics. Little Women, Pride and Prejudice, those ones.' he tells me through writing.
I smile so brightly, I think I've cracked my lips open. Not only do we share a love of books, clearly, but we have the same favourite.
'That's mine too, you know.' I reply to his anecdote. His eyes twinkle, which makes my heart flutter. He has such pretty features, I think to myself.
