Covent Garden Flowers; Tuesday [03/23].

[white_oleander]

To say Astrid was a little distracted today was an understatement; she'd considered making her appointment with Susan today, to just skip work for the day to head home and meet with her, but she hadn't, and now she regretted it. Thursday seemed forever away now, and there weren't nearly enough orders to work on to keep her mind on something mindless instead.

She was wondering what would happen if she'd used some of her time here to put together a bouquet for her mother--mostly oleander and azalea and calla lily, lily of the valley and hyacinth, all the poisonous hits--and attempts to bring it to her in prison while she was there.

Astrid still made the arrangement; it was terribly beautiful and she liked it enough that she was going to dig out her water colors and paint it, but the thought of actually having to see her mother right now made her feel so sick to her stomach, she almost couldn't stand it. Maybe she'd just mail it to her, instead. She could already imagine the righteous fury of a letter that would respond...

She hadn't even met with Susan yet, and, already, it was becomming clear to her that, no matter what she did, she just couldn't win.

Covent Garden is open!