Tjimariva tiptoed into his ex-girlfriend’s garden, and pressed his strawberry-like eyes at the sweet-smelling roses that had flowered overnight.
Inside the plant pot, sky-blue flowers of smiling ten dollars saluted him, and he picked them.
Soon he knelt before the indigo rose buds.
Later, he lifted his chin and spotted crimson roses of twenty dollars in a rose bowl.
He jingled the pebbly five cents inside the rose bowl. Later, he strolled towards the back of the garden, and found himself striding towards a pot of green roses shaped by the fifty dollars.
He caught the whiff of flowers, picked one, and breathed in the pleasing smell of green roses.
The granules of silvery ten cents chimed under the rose bush.
He chuckled and his heart drummed before winking skyward.
Now, his naked feet became numbed as he dizzily walked towards a plant pot of red roses in the shape of velvety hundred-dollar notes.
He merrily rubbed the soft flowers in his itching hands. The bronze granules of one dollar around the red roses tickled him.
Tjimariva smiled, for deep inside, he felt like a banker.
The non-stop smiling man was about to step out of the garden when he tripped over a plant pot stashed with purple roses in the shape of two hundred notes.
At the bottom of the roses, bronze-coloured five dollars were littered around the purple roses.
He heartily missed his ex-girlfriend.
The penny-pincher cupped his mouth and blocked the tingling laughter.
Soon, he locked the silvery gate of the garden.
The miser hiked a placard at the gate, which read, ‘Don’t water the plants’.
Then, he skipped into the kitchen and wagged a finger at his fiancé, warning his darling not to visit the garden. Only now that he spotted his wife-to-be hugging a bud vase of blue nylon roses in the form of thirty dollars. His eyes popped with a warning, ‘Don’t reap where you didn’t sow’.
They were smacking their lips when the funnel-shaped wind tested the depth of their romance.
“Our jackpot will be blown towards my ex-boyfriend!” she cried yearningly.
The one-day soulmates grabbed yawning pouches of money, and wrestled down the brown door to harvest the unique roses.
Until then, Tjimariva plucked up the red roses, and she handpicked the purplish roses.
“The flowers have no roots,” he said, removing the rust-coloured engagement ring.