The Second || 𝘩.𝘴.

『6』| 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙶𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚂

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
THE
SECOND
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
CHAPTER
SIX
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
THE
HOURGLASS
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

|_____________________________|

[[ CARMEN. ]]

I exhaled, tucking my hair behind my ears before I heaved a pink water pot over the blossoming slots of flowers by my dirty sneakers. As I'm in deep concentration, I furrow my eyebrows in focus. I gasped when a wheel barrow squeaked by me, carelessly bumping into my hip as I frowned, narrowing my eyes at Clementine.

"You know you could watch where you're going." I sarcastically remarked, irked by the girl who seemed to glare at me stoically.

"It's like 7AM in the morning, that's my mistake." She crankily replied. "Also, don't overwater my plants, you'll drown the inventory. Therefore you'll be wasting my precious time."

"Whatever." I curtly said, rolling my eyes as I rose my hands up in mock-defense. I sent the girl a fake smile, weaving around the wheel barrow, before I brought the water pot swiftly over the next row of flower plots. I believe they were orange and red carnations.

"Perfect. Just like that." Clementine called from another end of the greenhouse.

"It's actually fucking funny, never in my life would I have expected working maitenance for a florist post-heist." I eased, her eyes meeting mine. I mimicked her stoic gaze, though I found myself deeply studying her features as we shared a gentle silence.

"Well, sitting on your ass won't give. Won't it?"

"What makes you think I remotely had anything close to leisure time in the middle of an economic felony?" I asked her, setting the water pot down. I'm then darting off to the adjacent corner of the glass greenhouse, beginning my next task assigned. I heaved the heavy bag of soil over as I shook it rapidly over the crevice.

"You only had so much to bitch about, all I apparently heard was your ass talking. Clearly."

"Touché." I rose my eyebrows.

"Hey. Just... Just put the bag down would you? You're doing it all wrong."

"I'm doing it exactly the way you told me too." I interjected, this close to a breakdown.

"Give it to me. Hand it over." Clementine angered, snatching the plastic bag from my grasp though I hadn't loosened my grip, only tightened it in reluctance. The thin material had ripped wide open, soil scattering on the ground all over our shoes and on our pants.

"Great! Fucking great." I began to vigorously brush the soil away on my red corduroy pants. "I was trying to help, you know-it-all bitch."

"Whatever the fuck you were doing, was no help. It takes a strong fucking grip, not two ditsy, agile hands. Otherwise you're going to get it all over the fucking plots." She exhaled, narrowing her eyes at me.

I clenched my jaw, left speechless. Unexpectedly, I felt tears overcome me, turning my cheek before I stormed out of the greenhouse, pushing at the glass door. I've just about had it. I water all of this girl's plants, I plow for her plots, I carry in boxes of inventory, I update and organize all of her paperwork. Does this girl even remotely do any of the work for this flower shop? At all? Because it's been over eight hours, and it seems like she's done nothing but pretend to work and pester me at a constant.