Let Her Flo EP. 6 Perfect Practice

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From Flora's Journal - 3:17 AM

Some days feel like a hurricane.

The demands of being present with Selah.

Showing up for Cassie in her times of need.

All the while working on building my business and brand.

It’s exhausting and I struggle with setting boundaries.

When will I leave space to listen to my own needs.

Speaking of boundaries…

How do I start to create them with James?

All of these things weigh heavily on me tonight.

I’m looking out of my window and all I want is to hear his voice…

Joseph

Seeing him tomorrow…I’m nervous

What if I forget all that I am waging war with

and let my guard down

What if…

I remember what a kindled fire creates when it comes

into contact with tarnished memories.

And if it all burns

Will I finally feel warmth again

Am I willing to lose all that I know

To encounter a possibility?

In these quiet hours,

when everyone and everything sleeps my hands won't stop

creating pieces about transformation,

This connection…

No more screens between us,

no more digital distance keeping me safe

from how his presence makes me feel,

from how his art speaks languages

my soul has been yearning to hear.

And James…

How do you tell a good man

that good ain't enough anymore?

Lord, give me strength to face tomorrow.

To work beside him without trembling.

To let art speak out loud. To trust this season

of becoming, even when becoming

feels like breaking everything I knew

about love and timing and destiny.

-F

Morning Light

The museum prep room housed the aroma of myrrh and frankincense as Flora approached. Through the glass doors, old school R&B floated softly from Joseph's speakers - Maxwell's "Ascension" creating the perfect backdrop for creation.

Her mind still ruminating with the memory of last night's artwork, done in those quiet hours when her most vulnerable self spoke loudest. Now, watching Joseph set up their workspace - his movements precise, focused - she felt that same energy rising.

"Early bird," he looked up with his gap-toothed smile, "Though something tells me you been creating since dawn."

"More like never stopped," she admitted, setting up her workspace. Their piece from yesterday filled the massive screens - a testament to what happened when their styles merged.

"Know what this reminds me of?" Joseph moved closer, studying how her colors flowed through his framework. "That record store on Nostrand. Remember it? Used to stay open till 4 AM, everybody mixing styles, creating something new."

"The Underground," Flora smiled at the memory. "Used to sneak out just to sit on those steps, listen to whatever was playing."

"Bet you wrote poetry there too, back when words were your first art form."

Something about his observation made her pause. "How'd you know that?"

His smile deepened. "Your digital pieces still got rhythm like verses. Every emitted hue is like an utterance. For instance, Your turquoise and indigos are your safe space, your calm. It's reminiscent of Brooklyn at night wrapped in mystery and possibilities."

"Speaking of Brooklyn nights," Flora added new elements to their piece, "what made you switch from academia to art? Your early work was all theory and structure."

"Sometimes the safest path ain't the truest one." He watched her create for a moment. "Like you with poetry. What made you go digital?"

"Postpartum anxiety after Selah," she admitted quietly. "Words just didn't appease those more resounding feelings. I needed another avenue to articulate my evolving emotions. Needed something... bigger and more expansive. Something that could hold all that fear and faith I was encapsulating."

"That piece you did about it? About motherhood encountering those late night doubts? That's what first caught my attention."

Flora felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Before or after you read all my 3 AM posts?"

"Got me there," he laughed, moving to adjust something on her screen. "Though those posts showed me something else too - how your art desires the formation of intimacy. Birthing something veiled and supernatural like a prayer."

"It holds a striking resemblance to your pieces about faith and elevation" Flora facing him. "About finding God. Entering the way of wisdom by assimilating the concepts of quantum physics and jazz"

"You been studying my work too, huh?" His eyes held playful challenge.

"Maybe I just recognize another soul trying to make sense of this dynamic existence."

The honesty between them felt sacred, delicate.

"So tell me," Joseph echoed softly. " how are you navigating things with James?"

The question hung between them - careful but direct. Flora's hands moved across her screen, adding deeper purples that spoke of transition.

"James was safety," she said finally. "When I was young and scared with Cassie, he showed me what stable love looked like." Her colors shifted to warmer tones. "But sometimes safety starts feeling like..."

"Settling?" Joseph added.

"Yeah, finding solace in stagnancy rather than your intuitive knowing." Flora met his eyes. "All these pieces I been creating about transformation? They're really about learning how to be brave again."

"Is that why you create at 3 AM? When your heart's at ease and no longer speaking in code?"

"That's when my inner self gets loud," she smiled slightly. "When the streets are quiet enough and my honesty unmasks."

"Hmm," his tone shifted softer, "Do you feel like you can unravel those thoughts in my presence? Have I shown to be a comfort to you during all this change?"

Flora's hands stilled on her screen. "When I hear your voice and receive your words it's as if I am coming home."

Joseph absorbed her words, his proximity making the air feel electric. "Coming home," he repeated thoughtfully. "Your art feels similar to me, even though it's always evolving."

"I have been taking notes! You know, from the same man who hid poetry in academic papers," Flora countered, needing to lighten the intensity. "I found your old thesis - all them metaphors about Bebop scales, cadence, improvisation and wave function solar cells and atoms, neutrons...."

"Now who's been doing research?" His smile flashed interjecting , but his eyes stayed serious. "Though that thesis was really about finding sacred in unexpected places."

"Like now?" The question slipped out before she could catch it.

"Like now." His voice dropped lower. "Observing you create and seeing everything I been trying to formulate and disclose about transformation."

Flora turned back to their piece. "Your work does that too. It demonstrates your wonderment. How you trace with precision the beauty in this journey, It reveals the deepened shadows hidden in the struggle." She paused. " It shows how some artists learn truth through loss."

"You talking about Ava now?"

"Maybe...but maybe I'm talking about how some paths lead us where we need to be, even through heartbreak."

Joseph stepped closer, his presence making her skin hum. "Even through divorce?"

Morning Light (The Truth)

"Divorce papers ain't even final yet," Flora admitted softly, fingers tracing. "But the marriage? That ended long before I admitted to it. The ether patterned my departure before my mind yielded.

"The stars spoke and lit those unknown places. And your art started speaking louder than your silence." Joseph understood exactly what she meant.

"It's as if I was asleep and had awoken just to remember who I was before I learned to compromise my light." She added bold strokes of gold to their piece. "James... he loved that younger version of me. The one who needed safety more than growth."

"And now?"

"Now I'm becoming something else. Someone else." Flora felt the weight of his attention. "Someone who scares me sometimes with how much she wants..."

She stopped, realizing how much truth was spilling out.

"What do you want Flora?" Joseph's voice came soft but intense.

"I want more." Flora looked up at him then. "More than a quiet existence. More than careful movements. More than... what's safe"

"Is this safe?" His eyes held something that made her breath catch.

"Not when you look at me like that." The admission felt like a once restricted note revealed. An invitation or a possible warning.

The room grew silent for a moment and all that could be heard was the faint buzz of the computers.

"Safe ain't always sacred though, it could just be another word for hiding."

"Joseph, are you aware you hide behind scholarly words when feelings get too real?" Flora challenged gently.

"Ha! Says the woman who turns midnight anxiety into digital revelations." His smile held affection. "We all got our ways of making sense of change."

The morning sun painted their workspace gold, their art reflecting what words couldn't quite capture.

"You know what my Granny used to say about change?" Joseph's voice carried memory. "Said it's like jazz - the beauty's in how you handle the unexpected notes."

"My daddy used to say something similar about faith," Flora shared. "About how God speaks clearest when plans fall apart."

"Wise man" Joseph said quietly. "How do you think he would counsel you about your journey now?"

"He'd say..." she took a breath. "He'd say some seasons require courage more than clarity."

Their eyes met in the reflection of the massive screens, both seeing how their art told stories their hearts were just learning to speak.

Morning Light (The Flow)

As if on cue, Maxwell's "Till The Cops Come Knockin'" filled the prep room. Joseph watched the rhythm catch Flora's shoulders, saw how music moved through her.

"I see you," he observed softly. "Even when you're trying to be professional."

"Look at whose feet been tapping since the song started." Her smile held a playful response.

Without words, he extended his hand - an invitation. Flora looked at it for a moment, both of them knowing this was about more than just dancing.

When she took his hand, the contact bridged a warm stream of enticement through them both. He drew her close, respectful but intimate, their bodies finding natural rhythm like they'd been dancing together for years.

"Remember I told you...you move like your art," Joseph murmured, guiding her into a slow turn.

Flora felt the strength in his frame, how he led with gentle confidence. His scented oils mixed with morning air made her thoughts transport to nostalgic innocence. Before life got too complicated. When the heart was tender and invited sensual play. Each turn brought them closer, their chemistry turning dance steps into paced confessions.

"You... feel like home to me Flo," he whispered near her ear, and Flora looked up to find his eyes holding her captive.

The space between them increasingly growing with an appetite that both of them sought to satisfy with each preceding movement. The music wrapped around them like silk. Flora's curves fit against his frame as if designed by destiny, each movement writing stories their words weren't ready to tell.

"Been thinking about that piece you posted last night," Joseph's voice came low, meant just for her. "finding truth in the AM."

"Been studying my late-night creations?" Flora tried to keep her tone light despite the allurement of his proximity.

"Been studying everything about you." His confession came honest, raw. "How your art morphs when you're feeling confident. How your whole energy shifts when you're about to take a risk."

Their dancing slowed, bodies still swaying but barely moving. His hand at her waist felt like an anchor.

"Joseph..." His name came out barely above whisper.

He looked down at her, eyes holding storms. The morning sun painted them both in gold as the space between them grew charged.

When he leaned closer, Flora felt her breath begin to marry with his. Their lips were inches apart, all this time of careful distance dissolving into magnetic pull...

Morning Light (The Interruption)

"I should..." Flora stepped back suddenly, her heart thundering against her ribs. "Ladies room. Just... I need a minute."

The loss of her warmth hit Joseph like a physical ache, but he watched her go, understanding written in his stance. Some moments needed space to breathe.

In the quiet she left behind, he moved to their screens, studying how their art had evolved - bolder, braver, like their hearts learning new rhythms.

"Joseph!" Ava's voice carried triumph as she burst into the prep room. "You won't believe what I managed to pull off."

He turned, still caught in the echo of almost-kiss. "What's that?"

"Daniel Rivera agreed to open the feature. Remembering old times made him say yes immediately."

"Old times?"

"Us. The magic we used to make happen." Her hand found his chest, familiar but foreign now. " Come on Joseph...you don't miss it? Maybe it's time to remember how good we were together."

Before he could step back, her lips found his - just as Flora returned, the door closing behind her with quiet finality.

The sound of the door made Ava pull back, satisfaction playing at her lips. But Joseph's eyes found Flora's immediately - saw something shutter behind them, walls rebuilding in real time.

"Flora—" he stepped away from Ava, but before he could explain, every screen in the prep room flashed red:

```

MUSEUM EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED

ALL DIGITAL ART SYSTEMS SHUTTING DOWN FOR PROTECTION

```

Their creation began fading from the massive displays.

"What's happening?" Ava demanded, already on her phone.

Emergency sirens wailed outside as breaking news alerts lit up their phones:

```

BREAKING: Major Protests Shut Down Brooklyn Downtown

All Buildings In Arts District Under Emergency Lockdown

Shelter in Place Protocol Initiated Until Further Notice

```

Through the windows, they watched police barriers rise, crowds gathering. The museum's security system engaged with heavy finality - protecting the priceless art inside while trapping them all together.

Flora's phone buzzed with a text from James:

```

Just saw the news. You okay?

I know how small spaces trigger your anxiety.

Need me to try to get there?

```

Then Marie sent a photo that made time stand still for Flora - Selah's latest iPad drawing showing dark clouds gathering, but golden light breaking through. Her daughter's art speaking prophecy again.

She looked up to find Joseph watching her, the morning's almost-kiss and Ava's actual one hanging between them like smoke. Now they were all trapped here, with nothing but time and truth to face.

Next Episode : "Opening Night, Part 1 - Rehearsal

Three days. That's all they have left before the museum feature. Three days of working close, pretending that almost-kiss never happened. Three days of watching how Ava circles Joseph like memory that won't fade. Three days of James showing up with questions in his eyes about endings and beginnings.

Some rehearsals burn hotter than the performance. Some practice breaks more than it builds.

Brooklyn's watching what happens when two artists can't hide behind screens anymore...