sulfurousdreamscapes:

I was surrounded by flowers, but all I could look at was the florist behind the counter with the glowing, golden ring hanging around his neck. The bell above the door signalled my entrance, so he looked up at me, smiled, nodded, and got back to setting a vase in order. The colours dazzled me, but I kept my eyes on the ring around his neck.

“Hi,” I smiled. “I’m Devika, I just moved in down the street, so I’m exploring this part of the city.”

The florist’s teeth shone like diamonds. He shook my hand with a firm, but soft grip. “Julian,” he said, “As it says on the signboard outside. Pleased to meet you.”

I pretended to look around, even though the ring was burned in my eyes. “Quite the selection of flowers you’ve got here, Julian,” I said and slowly drew my gaze back to his neck. The ring was lit up as if it was a circular glowstick.

“Yes,” his voice was deep, a little hoarse, very young. “Which ones are you interested in?” His eyes and teeth reflected the light of the ring, yellow-gold.

“Oh, I don’t know the first thing about flowers,” I laughed nervously. “I know roses, lotuses, marigolds, tulips, and err, do you know what a champa is?”

“Plumeria,” he leaned forward and pointed at a corner of the shop. Then he matched his eyes with mine again. “But you’re not here for flowers.”

“No,” I laughed a little more. “I told you, I’m just exploring. I used to go exploring shops with my aunt when I was a kid. Call me nostalgic.”

He bit his upper lip, dissolved the bite into a smile. “And does your nostalgia make you stare at this?” He pulled on the glowing ring around his neck.

I don’t know if I blushed. Let’s assume I did. “Yes,” I sheepishly said, before I knew what I was saying yes to. “No, I mean, sorry. It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That’s understandable,” he stood up straight again, turning the ring around his neck with his fingers. “Most people never see a halo in all their life.”

I watched the ring turn around his neck, and I noticed a broken section in the middle. The edges were rough, like the ring had been broken by force. It was still small enough a break that Julian could wear the ring comfortably.

“It looks fashionable,” I said.

“It isn’t,” he said. “It’s a real halo.”

“Are you an angel?” I asked.

He cocked his head and picked out a peach-orange flower out of a vase. “I don’t know.” His smile looked simple now, innocent, a little wistful. “Am I?”

“Your halo is broken,” I blurted. “How did it break?”

“I broke it,” he looked at the flower now, caressed its petals. “Tried to, anyway.”

“Why?”

His smile dropped, and his eyes opened wide. “Because…” he began, but the halo rose and shot back. It dug into his neck, the broken section burying itself into his skin. It drew blood. Julian’s face turned red, and he held onto the counter for support. He struggled to look up at me, eyes open wide, afraid, but not shocked.

My hands covered my mouth. “What do I do?” I asked.

He held his hand up at me, and closed his eyes shut. Holding onto his halo, he struggled with it for a while, whispered under his breath. Tears rolled down his cheeks, onto the counter and the flower.

When the halo loosened itself and dropped back to around his neck, he exhaled the word “God”. It took him a while to regain his composure, breathing deeply and wiping his tears. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed several times.

“Might I interest you in a flower or two, miss?” he asked, no longer smiling, his voice still deep, hoarse.