The Lilac Gardens

Will decided that the universe was out to get him. Being sent to the Lilac Gardens was only the first step to having him ultimately destroyed. For what reason, who knows? He was set on the fact that the world had one job at the moment: to torture Will. He pushed his grandma's wheelchair through the white picket fence, following the brick cobbled road, twitching at an effort to not itch his eye.

The spring air warmed his skin. Trees reached upward to the cloudless blue sky with their leafy arms, stretched to the beyond. Tiny white dots covered the bases of the plants, growing in little patches whilst dancing across the ends of the roots. Vibrant flowers bloomed across the green and neatly trimmed bushes. Will looked forward and saw an antique house, the two story building, the center of the garden. It's panels along the side were painted the color of snow, however worn out by all the years of unpredictable weather and surrounded by the sweet smell of flowers. It was like a painting come to life.

Will hated it.

"Will!" his grandma called to him, drawing his attention. His grandma sat happily in her chair, her glasses glinting. She grinned, her face shining as she gazed around the garden. "Isn't this wonderful?"

Will glanced at the "Welcome to the Lilac Gardens!" sign behind him. The lilacs looked like a purple corns on the cob. Will sniffled, trying to keep a sneeze in.

"Absolutely." Will said in strained voice, grasping the handles of the wheelchair more tightly. He pushed forward.

...

Will was miserable, and that was something you never should say in the presence of your grandmother. All he did was chauffeur her around in her little chair to every allergy prone flower possible.

His eyes watered as they strolled on by blurry green bushes. He could only hear the sounds of voices laughing and talking. The tickle in his nose grew, but no sneeze was coming out. His eyes itched like someone had poured an entire can of  itching powder into his eyes.

Could death make this quicker and have him die now?

"Will, stop here!" his grandma exclaimed excitedly. He halted to a stop and made sure his grandma's wheelchair was parked. Then he grabbed the hem his T-shirt and viciously rubbed his eyes in it. 

Would my death be quicker to inject my veins with pollen or snort it like cocaine? Will thought pitifully, scrubbing the fabric harder against his swollen eyes. His poor immune system.

"Would you like a flower?" a new voice asked. Will stopped his eyes itching, frozen, listening for the owner of the voice.

He lifted his swollen eyes from his shirt and spotted the figure. A human being. A girl. With dark hair pulled into a ponytail, warm face, and a soft expression. She smiled, the sun reflecting shades of green and brown in her hazel eyes, like a kaleidoscope. They had flecks of gold in them.

"Would you like a flower?" she asked again. He looked where her gaze was directed: toward his grandma.

His grandma grinned, her wrinkly old hands reaching for the blooming magenta lilac. Shakily grabbing the stem, she brought the flower to her eyes and smiled. The girl smiled back.

Will was pretty sure he just experienced love at first sight.

"Erica!" called a voice from behind her. "Go help that customer please!"

The girl, whose name was presumably Erica, whipped around quickly to the voice, and turned back to his grandmother with a warm grin.

"Have a good day!" she told Will's grandma kindly as a farewell. Her eyes shimmered like tiny stars twinkling in her hazel eyes. She turned on her heel clutching a bouquet of tiny lilacs. Will stood there, gawking like a fool.

God help him.

Suddenly, through Will's distorted vision, he saw a tiny purple lilac fall out of the girl's bouquet. He immediately went forward to pick it up, holding between his fingers, God's (supposedly) immediate response to Will's desperate prayers to not humiliate himself further.

God had given him a chance! A miracle, per say, so he could talk to this girl. Thank the Lord. He really should go to Church more often.

Will looked up and called her name, "Erica!"

He jogged toward her, his sandy hair flopping up in down, tiny flower in hand. "Your flower!"

Her dark ponytail swung around, the sun illuminating singular chocolate strands. Her gaze looked downward, away from Will's face, eyes focused on the flower.

"Ah, thank you!" she exclaimed, her small hand moving toward the lilac. Her fingers brushed his own, and she stopped moving. Erica looked up into Will's eyes and froze, her mouth slightly agape as their hands still touched, grasped around the bloom.

Will could feel his heart stop.

Then beat way too fast.

Was he having a heart attack?

Now God was granting his wish to die? Right now? In front of this most beautiful girl he had ever seen?

Erica's mouth moved, her eyes never leaving his. Will felt his cheeks get hot.

"Uh, thank you, uh..." Erica stuttered, spluttering at her words. "Thank you..."

"Will," said Will, somehow mustering the courage to say his name out of the depths of his nervousness and the desire to throw up his breakfast. "My name is Will."

The girl stared at him for a split second longer, and then smiled, resuming her movements by clasping her fingers around the violet flower and drawing it back toward her bouquet.

"Thank you, Will."

Will was a goner.