After I finished up my shift in what felt like a blink of an eye, I notice something along the sidewalk as I make my way home. The first time I've ever really stopped before going home. Darren likes when I'm home at the correct time to start dinner. But this is such a jarring thing to notice that I can't help but stop and bend over to admire the beauty of the flower. Its colour is vibrant with large petals that also look lush and soft. I'm about to reach out to touch the supple-looking petals when my hand hesitates. Should beauty really be tainted by human contact?

Admiring the flower in awe for a moment longer, I stand upright and continue along my way. The streets are bleak as I walk back to the apartment. Have they always been so grey? How did that flower even manage to find its way through the concrete to such a size anyway?

Pulling my keys from my pocket, I unlock the door to be greeted by Darren. His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares down at me. A shiver runs down my spine and a cold feeling starts to creep into my body.

"I brought back dinner tonight. Chinese from your favourite restaurant." I say while holding up the bag of Chinese food. I don't remember stopping by the restaurant across town though.

Standing there for a moment longer, Darren sighs and gruffly welcomes me inside.

"Fine, it's laundry night. Make sure you get it in a working machine this time," Darren says. There are laundry machines in the basement of the unit and only a few were in working condition. Pulling still damp and wet clothes out of a dryer was never fun.

"I will, don't worry," I say while nodding my head. As I side-step around Darren and into our apartment, I note that it also looks rather grey and bland. How had I never noticed something like that before? But the feelings of unease that bubbles for a split-second are gone before I can attempt to acknowledge their existence. It's certainly all in my head.

The scent of the food takes over the kitchen as I pull two plates from the cupboard and place them onto the countertop. It's so strong that even Darren's cinnamon scent is drowned out, which is both soothing and conflicting. Darren's scent is usually the most prominent in the small apartment and I usually enjoy that fact. Tonight, however, I'm glad that the Chinese food is stronger. For some reason, the comfort of the cinnamon isn't as strong in my gut.

Darren is now sitting in the lounge chair in front of the TV and turns his head to look back at me before raising an eyebrow.

"Didn't I tell you it's laundry night?" he asks with a questioning expression that borders more on a commanding one. My back stiffens at the command and I visibly shrink in stature before putting the food on the plate and turning around to hand him his share.

"I thought I could eat first," I say, my words trailing off at the end. His expression remains the same though and I nod my head.

"But it's okay, I can do it now."

Darren turns back around and flicks through the TV channels with his plate in one hand and the remote in the other. I don't say anything else as I pick up the laundry basket from the bedroom and head out and down the hall toward the staircase. It's only a short distance downstairs to the laundry room, not a big deal.

With the laundry in the washing machine and the basket sitting on top as it bounced around, I can't help but think about that flower. Even still in my memory, its beauty is beyond words. I can't help but feel as though if I had touched it, surely the flower would have wilted away immediately. My back is pressed up against a washing machine that was currently off as I sigh to myself. All I can think is that I want to find the flower tomorrow. The thought of dinner and Darren upstairs feels so far away that it's easy to forget that I have Chinese food getting cold.

I don't know how long I was there but the sound of the washing machine buzzing startles me as it beeps loudly at me. Shit! Darren would be angry...

Is it just easier to stay down here? That's a silly thought though. I can't live in a laundry room. Going back upstairs is only inevitable. But the laundry needs to be changed over first providing a welcomed reason to stay here longer.

...

His eyes hadn't even closed and already the ground beneath his bare feet was plush. Hadn't he been wearing shoes? The notion of shoes felt foreign as he looked around to figure out where he was. It's only as Evan's hands reach down to feel the lush and soft substance he's sitting on that he realizes he's not at home. This isn't the carpet in their living room, it's too bright to be. What else could it be?

He can smell the fresh air around him and his hands come up to his forearms. It's cold out which is strange for a summer evening. That doesn't make sense either though as it's January and should be cold, right? The thought that it was January and shouldn't be summer conflicted in his mind.

Evan's hands came up to the sides of his head as he held them in confusion before a reassuring voice spoke softly to him.

"It's alright. You're fine now," it said in a soothing whisper. Looking up, Evan tried to find the source but couldn't locate the man. As he looked down at his hands, as they were still in the plush surface, he noticed the soft colour change from the yellow beneath him to a purple. The deep and rich purple almost appeared royal as it gently thrummed in the air. He'd seen this before. He swore he could remember seeing it recently. However, before he could piece together where it was, Evan felt his mind slipping to black around the edges of his vision.

"Who are you?" he asked hoarsely.

"Come find me, I'll help you."