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Clara nodded. "He’s the one who reminds me that survival is hard, and you need thick armor."
Leo turned his back to the intimidating cactus, and met her eyes. "Well, I hope Peter, the slightly chaotic, resilient, animated rabbit cactus is a good enough apology?"
He took a step closer, leaving the thorny haughty indignation behind him. The air was charged, not with electricity or chaos, but with a quiet, undeniable possibility.
"We'll see, Leo," Clara whispered, feeling the familiar fear, but this time, it was mixed with a healthier dose of hope. "We'll see how you handle the long haul."
Leo took the challenge seriously. "‘Long haul’ starts with clean-up," he announced, dragging himself away, with some effort, from the gravitational pull of Bartholomew's judgement.
The repotting had left a fine, gritty residue of pumice and soil on the pristine white counter. Predominantly where Leo had worked. As Clara put the repotting things away and organised her plant cupboard, Leo helpfully remembered Clara's conditions; grabbed the roll of paper towels and the multi-surface cleaner from near the sink, his movements economical and practiced. He was, after all, a professional in managing immediate messes. In less than ten minutes, the kitchen island was spotless, the butcher paper neatly folded, and Peter, the newest addition, was placed carefully near a sunnier window whilst Clara thought about his permanent spot.
"Ninety percent of the job," Leo said, tossing the last of the used paper towels lightly into the bin. "Tidying up after chaos, but admittedly; not usually my own.”
She looked at the rabbit-eared cactus, then back at the man who had drawn whiskers on it.
"Except this time, it was more… contained," Clara murmured.
Part 12 #CreativeWriting #Cacti #Bartholomew #AStoryADayKeepsTheBoredomAtBay #StillGoing