bell peppers & balconies. | joseph liebgott

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as requested by an anon on tumblr

***

Water splashed against your foot, the contents of your watering can spilling onto the balcony under yours. You quietly cursed, stepping aside and rushing to turn off the faucet. It was like any other day, summer just around the corner, and as usual, you tended to your small garden, a couple of planter boxes fastened to the railing of your balcony.

It was 1945. The war had just ended, and though everything was normal for a while now, the difference soldiers coming home made was striking. You had moved to San Francisco right after most of the men shipped out, so their return made a difference to everyone but you.

With summer rolling in, you worried about your bell peppers that had started sprouting. It was rarely bright and sunny where you lived, but your small apartment faced south, allowing your tiny, makeshift backyard to receive as much sunlight as possible for your vegetables.

You lived in a corner apartment, and the apartment beside yours was empty, so your floor was quiet, noise coming only from the bustle of the streets below. Today was no different.

Or so you thought.

"You water them any more and they'll drown," a voice said to you, and for a moment, you thought you had hallucinated. On the balcony beside yours stood a skinny man, still in his military uniform, leaning on the railing. "I'm serious, that's way too much water."

Tilting your watering can, you placed it on a wooden stool, surveying the damage. It was one of your bad habits- getting so lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It was a surprise any of your vegetables had grown at all.

"Oops," you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, "They'll be fine.. I hope." The man chuckled, the sound of his laugh so clear despite the honking of the traffic on the streets under you.

He leaned down on the railing on his elbows, taking out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it in such swift movements. You never liked smoking, hated the smell of cigarettes, but briefly, as you watched him exhale, you loved it. The man saw you eye him from his peripherals and turned to you, throwing you a wink.

"I hope so too," he mumbled, flicking spent ashes to the ground below, "Can't have spaghetti without tomatoes can we? Those are tomatoes aren't they?"

You shook your head gently. "No, bell peppers. My tomatoes didn't grow," a frown appeared on your face and the man clucked his tongue. He moved in his place, resting on his back on the warm metal to face you. "Did you just get back?" You cursed yourself in your head for such a stupid question, as he was in fact, still in his hat.

The man nodded absentmindedly, taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling before speaking. "Yep, just moved in as well," he smiled kindly, the smile-lines around his mouth deepening, "Glad my 'ma chose this apartment."

Turning back towards the horizon, you sighed happily. "It has the best view," you replied, "You're really lucky."

"I sure am," the man grinned, but his eyes remained trained on her, "I've got a pretty neighbour with bell peppers as well." You couldn't fight the blush appearing on your cheeks.

"Would you like to come over for dinner?" you suddenly blurted out, surprising the both of you, you a little more. He seemed pleased, flicking away his cigarette and watching it drop to the ground.

Rubbing his hands together, he walked closer to his balcony ledge, a smirk on his face. "That's a surprise," he said, your cheeks heating up once more, "I was just about to ask you the same thing. Except, I don't have any furniture."

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