There’s a rough beauty to his face that catches the light,‭ ‬crude and yet gem-bright.

Standing beside the gardener effused with such lush life,‭ ‬Myrtle felt like a hollow shell in comparison,‭ ‬her heart beat dry and brittle in her breast.‭ ‬However this frail resentment crumpled loamy when his green gaze met her shard-glass glance.‭ ‬Cloying,‭ ‬she breathed the garden heat into her lungs and suffused throughout her blood,‭ ‬warming her very core.‭ ‬The green and good man took her heart in his lily fragrant hands,‭ ‬cradled like a new flower bud‭ – ‬in that tender grasp Myrtle could only bloom.