Scars Along the Way

A Reunion, of Sorts

Six Years Later...

Eva awoke to the beams of the early morning sun pouring in between the curtains of her bedroom window directly over her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned over away from the light, yawning and rubbing them.

She stretched for a moment before kicking off her blue knit blanket and sitting up. She jumped out of bed, heading downstairs to start her morning.

She filled her glass that she kept by the kitchen sink with tap water and chugged it. She's always insanely thirsty when she first wakes up.

She wiped her mouth with her arm and leaned over the sink, staring out of the window at the gently swaying trees and the morning sky, smiling contentedly.

She did not wake with any expectations or plans. She felt happier that way. Happy to not start her day moaning and groaning, dreading the start of another day slaving under some boss. She was glad to wake up and see the trees and sky, unlike the citizens of the nearby city, Gotham. They awoke to buildings and the smell of trash, the sounds of gunshots and sirens.

She was so fortunate to have been able to live outside of all of that and she knew that she was. She never took for granted what she had.

She headed back upstairs to run a brush through her long blonde hair, brush her teeth and throw on a T-shirt and pair of jeans. She decided she was going to pull up weeds from her garden and maybe paint her new shed, which was a drab pebble grey and just begging to be painted.

Eva stepped out onto her back patio barefoot and picked up the plastic bucket that sat by the door. She went out to the garden and started pulling up the weeds by their roots.

As she was doing this, she saw something bright red out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see her raspberry bushes, delighted to see that most of the berries were ripe and ready to pick.

She tossed the weed that was in her hand into the bucket behind her and began picking raspberries, making a kangaroo pouch with her shirt to carry them.

She went back into the house and put the berries into a colander. She had just begun rinsing them in the sink when her phone began playing a jingle.

She quickly dried her hands on her shirt and picked it up, looking at the screen.

"Of course." She muttered to herself, turning off the alarm. It was a reminder she had set that she had a flower delivery later that day.

She had forgotten about the floral arrangements she made which were to be delivered later. She was easily distracted, so she was glad she set the alarm.

Eva didn't have to work, but flowers brought her joy, and she wasn't going to put her time and creativity into something for free. So she worked from home as a florist, just to keep busy and be able to do what she loved.

She was very talented, and she knew this. Everything she made had her own carefree, wild touch, while still keeping them classy enough to suit her customers. She always fulfilled their vision of what they wanted.

People were often thrown off by her odd business name and her unsightly facial scars, but she never failed to surprise and impress her customers with her willingness to drive all the way out to them (without charge) with flower and foliage samples so that they could tell her exactly what they wanted.

Gotham was an icky and depressing place. Most people were struggling, so other than the occasional surprise birthday or valentine's day delivery to someone's girlfriend's workplace, she got most of her business from the rich and the politicians when they held events and parties.