Augustus Phlox.Here Come the Flowers
Day-Day was settled on a barrel, outside his ramshackle house. It was dusk. BlancheFlower had seen the phospherecence of evening primrose moments before. The flowers had been dappled with an internal moonglow, as if mildly electric.
Day-Day smiled. BlancheFlower rolled down the passenger window of his tin-can.
“How’ve you been?”
“Great,” pause. “What brings you here?” Day-Day in curiosity.
BlancheFlower paused. It was upon him now, another move not his own. His tin-can quietly purred. He took a sip of a lukewarm Red Stripe.
“The flowers sent me, Day-Day. The flowers did this.”
Day-Day, in polite peace, continued to smile through Blancheflower’s passenger window. He held a book on Texas Coastal Plain bird species.
“How would you like to meet my Mom?”
BlancheFlower knew. “I think that sounds like a plan.”
Stepping out of his tin-can, onto the asphalt road, BlancheFlower walked towards the rickety house, a half dozen cars on its shell-filled lawn. The sun had passed. The salt in the air smelled like embers.