The end of any sort of beginning: Part One

Initially, I did not tell anyone my intentions.

I knew that all my friends would try stop me. They would say, “It is a lovely idea. But people don’t really do that sort of thing.” They would try to analyze my motives, try to predict his behaviour. I did not want to think. I did not want to be stopped. I did not want rational thinking. For that hour all I wanted was to do what I wanted to do. I wanted to follow this spontaneous instinct that was making somersaults in my gut.

Life had become a little bit too serious.

Like a child let loose for the summer, all I wanted to do was play.

So, without telling anyone, I did.

***

“I’ve got to ask” I had written.  “Because I keep getting notifications that all these people are sending you flowers.  Did you break a bone or is this some sort of a new Facebook trend that has completely flown over my head?”

He replied–which was a vast improvement–that he had not broken a bone and that he was not actually receiving any of these flowers. “Must be some weird technical fault.” Then he added, “Nobody real wants to send me any flowers…”

I wanted to play and as he flirted with the use of three successive periods he had unwittingly just drafted himself into my game.

***

Thirty minutes after I had sealed the box and handed it to the taxi driver whose job was to deliver it, Real called me. As I failed to pick up, he sent a text message.

I just got it. Thank you. That was so thoughtful and sweet of you. I did not know what was going to be in it! It is now decorating my workspace!! xx

I smiled and replied excitedly,

Aren’t surprise packages the best? I’m glad you liked it. Although, I was just trying to make you laugh.

I got an immediate response.

I did laugh! After the initial worrying was over, of course. Thank you! It made my day!

I left it that. There was not much else to say. But, I was happy.

Happy I had done what I wanted to do. Happy that I had brightened someones otherwise mundane Thursday. But mostly I was happy because he had got it. He had not freaked out. He had seen it–I naively thought–for what it was.

A playful gesture; an innocent joke.

Because in the box that he had just opened, under some tissue paper, I had placed–while mischievous giggles escaped my throat–an elementary, handmade origami flower.

To be continued…