post 51. the florist.

“come inside,” the little man said, and i followed him into the smallish cottage, where it smelled of flowers. he had an entire garden in his front room. after i commented on the strange display instead of regular interior design, he let out a small chuckle. “oh, this is nothing,” he said, as he strolled through his living room garden. there were azaleas, hyacinths, butterscotch roses, forget-me nots, olivias, destartocides, and even the long-forgotten butterfly marigolds. there were more colours than i had names for, and they all swam together in a lush display. * “this is just what i like to show the guests…if you’d follow me,” he said, and we walked down a hall. there was a golden retriever lying to one side at the entrance and he watched me unconcernedly. we stopped at a door and he pushed it open to reveal another display of plants, these mostly green—a forest posing as a guest room. a bed, a dresser, a few gardening books placed carefully on the bedside table with an antique-looking lamp. * “this is the guest room,” he said, and he pointed out a few variations, names i couldn’t fathom, from places i had never heard of. * the next room was all banzai trees; then a room of other trees—a room in which he had cut a hole in the ceiling—where birds chirped and the light rain ran off via grates in the floor. the next room was a lush carpet of grass and a bunch of yellow flowers lining the room’s perimeter. * “these are all fine, but …” i said carefully, as I looked at my watch. * “yes, yes,” he said, “you’re very impatient for a g-man,” and he took me to the room at the end of the hall. “here we are,” he said and he opened the door to a white room, with nothing in it save for a solitary red clay pot and its charge, an orchid. the room was lit with high-priced hydroponics lights. * “this,” he said, carefully picking up the potted plant, “is the orchid of truth. poisonous in the wrong light, and a powerful agent under others.” it shivered in the room’s delicate air conditioning. * “this is amazing,” i said. “but I can’t help but wonder…why are you letting me borrow it?” * “my wife loved orchids,” he said, and those people destroyed her, much like they’re trying to destroy you now.” he handed the pot to me. “don’t let this plant go to waste in your quest.” * “i won’t, sir.” we walked back into the living room, and the dog got up and followed us in a lazy manner. “if i may, though,” i said, “i have one more favor.” i put the plant down on a table. “they’ll be looking for me. i need some new clothes. got anything I could borrow?” * “i have just the thing,” he said, waving me back into the hallway towards a door we hadn’t opened yet.