𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞

Intimacy Exaggerated

It was odd the way he moved. Almost as if he was leading Florence through the winding garden paths. As if he lived there himself. So confident, yet so reserved, Florence noted. He went on, rambling about various different story lines and tropes he had discarded in the past, as Florence used every ounce of her will not to gaze at him as he spoke.

He led her through the shrubbery and hedges until the reached the end, and snaked their way back up to the estate. The gaslight lamps had been lit tonight, a rare occasion, for the Fawn estate. They were beautiful once lit, dotting the garden like fireflies if observed from above. There was usually nobody wandering through the gardens at night, thus no cause to light them. But tonight was different.

Tonight Florence and Clair strolled carelessly about the paths. The cool night air, the sun dipping slowly beneath the horizon. Basking everything in gold before snuffing it out. The dimness heightened the ambiance. The sound of Florence's dress brushing up against his pants. The soft scuffling of Clair's shoes against the stonework. The wrought iron fences creaking beneath his touch. Florence's occasional sighs. Clair's voice lowered almost to a whisper but for no reason in particular. It seemed to Florence like he didn't want to disrupt the flowers. Their delicate petals and bursting aromas, wrapping around the two. Binding them together.

In this moment, time was still. They were infinite. She sensed he didn't understand the intimacy of this. Perhaps I am just exaggerating, she consoled herself. She felt as if she'd known Clair forever, they'd just been apart for a bit. Now they were catching up seeing what they'd missed. Everything had slipped Florence's mind. Cathryn, the mystery girl. Her mother, her siblings, and most certainly her father.

It all was resurfaced as Florence caught sight of little Jacob running up to them.

"Mother says to come back for dinner now." He announced, breathless.

He dashed right off afterwards, leaving her grinning and Clair laughing. They obeyed and returned to the house. She led him up the steps and through the back door.

"I'm just going to drop the briefcase off in my room, you can go on without me." Florence stated, gesturing down the hall with her unoccupied hand.

"Oh no, It's quite alright. I'll come with you. I fear I'll get lost on my own." He replied with a slight smirk.

Florence stood, astonished at this simple gesture.

"If that is alright with you of course Miss." He added, growing solemn.

He even reverted back to calling her "Miss." She assumed he read her face incorrectly.

"Oh yes of course." She breathed.

His lips perked up instantly, and he followed her up the stair case. They arrived promptly at her room, where Clair waited outside as she placed the case onto her bed. She stole a glance at herself in the mirror, pausing to pinch her cheeks. Florence exited the room, and walked towards the dining hall alongside Clair.