April 5th, 1895 - High Street
Mason did not often slink out of school on weekend days anymore. Between being Head of House, Garden Club, and regular teaching duties he was normally strapped for free time. He didn't mind, he enjoyed his life immensely, but it meant he had to purposefully carve out time for days like today. His mother's birthday was not something to skip, even if she probably rather he not make any fuss at all. It wasn't much, but he still felt like they ought to celebrate. He'd stopped to see Quin to get the cake he'd ordered, now he was stepping out of the Florist Potts with a big bouquet of spring flowers, bent on making his dinner plans at his mother's house on time.
The air smelled like spring, even if it was a little drizzly. He'd gotten lucky in that it wasn't pouring out, but just a little haze of precipitation that left a chill in the bones. It was a little later than he'd anticipated; Quin had yacked his ear off. His former roommate was all chipper and Mason was genuinely happy for the man and his growing family. It meant there were far too many updates for a quick meeting and so he'd had to scamper with the promise of grabbing a drink soon. Then of course Mrs. Potts had wanted to chat as well and Mason couldn't politely get out of that one without indulging her for a few minutes, checking in on something things in the greenhouse that had been doing poorly. He made some suggestions, was reminded of his monthly fertilizer pickup the following Friday and finally escaped with the fragrant arrangement in his hands thanks in part to the sister working behind the counter today.
Stepping into the street with his hands full was a precarious predicament. Nowadays if he had to manage a crowd, he was at least taller than most of them. Fortunately the weather seemed to be keeping people indoors. Weaving around a pair of children, Mason wobbled a little with his parcels, stepping aside to keep himself balanced— right into a puddle. If having a soaked shoe was not enough of an ordeal, as he went to step out, he found that he couldn't.
What had he done, on a cosmic level, to deserve this?
The air smelled like spring, even if it was a little drizzly. He'd gotten lucky in that it wasn't pouring out, but just a little haze of precipitation that left a chill in the bones. It was a little later than he'd anticipated; Quin had yacked his ear off. His former roommate was all chipper and Mason was genuinely happy for the man and his growing family. It meant there were far too many updates for a quick meeting and so he'd had to scamper with the promise of grabbing a drink soon. Then of course Mrs. Potts had wanted to chat as well and Mason couldn't politely get out of that one without indulging her for a few minutes, checking in on something things in the greenhouse that had been doing poorly. He made some suggestions, was reminded of his monthly fertilizer pickup the following Friday and finally escaped with the fragrant arrangement in his hands thanks in part to the sister working behind the counter today.
Stepping into the street with his hands full was a precarious predicament. Nowadays if he had to manage a crowd, he was at least taller than most of them. Fortunately the weather seemed to be keeping people indoors. Weaving around a pair of children, Mason wobbled a little with his parcels, stepping aside to keep himself balanced— right into a puddle. If having a soaked shoe was not enough of an ordeal, as he went to step out, he found that he couldn't.
What had he done, on a cosmic level, to deserve this?
![[Image: Mason-MJSig.png]](https://i.ibb.co/HYqhKz6/Mason-MJSig.png)
magic by MJ the magnificent
