The great grounding
Aeolus had vanished from among the white geraniums, but not entirely. He hadn't fled from the TIIIIII that was shattering the garden. He wasn't afraid of big words. He had gone on a mission... Agent 003.5.
Half the size of James Bond. Twice as brave. With a license to press red buttons.
He couldn't leave Anemo prisoner to that dreadful microphone, with all its feedback and his implausible, rambling, and... elucubrant speech. A prisoner of the burning spotlights.
The audience held its breath. Daisy Queen had dropped her fan. Remi was biting her lips. Anemo wanted the earth to swallow him up, microphone and all, but he couldn't stop spouting "pearls." So, Aeolus said to himself: “Enough.”
He slipped under Arbaletă’s table. He sped past Daisy’s heels. He turned down the side aisle, past the green, black, and brown bins. There, hugging the wall of the house, the gray cabinet awaited him. “ESB Meter + Garden Circuits,” it read. The small door was ajar.
The little mouse climbed onto the wheel of the green bin and leaped onto the edge of the cabinet. The green LED blinked nervously beside the red button. He didn't calculate. He didn't waste time talking. He closed his eyes and pressed down with both paws.
"CLACK!"
The spotlights died. The speaker let out a "sigh" of relief. The garden was left only with the lanterns, the moon, and the scent of lilac.
Silence. Then, Anemo’s voice—calm, normal:
“Finally, it's quiet!”
Then, with a nonchalance no one expected, he took off his shoes (those merciless instruments of torture) and, unbuttoning his blazer, continued:
“After all, my mother’s yard isn't even big enough to need a microphone; you can all hear me just fine... I offer my deepest apologies for the delirium earlier... it was as if I wasn't myself.”
“Now that’s more like it! Dieu merci! I’ve found my heart again; you can take your paws off your ears, kiddo!”
From the wheelbarrow of geraniums, a rustle was heard, and someone let out a sigh of relief:
“Mission accomplished!”
“I love you, Aeolus! Okay, okay, I promise to be quiet, I want to hear this speech too!”
In the audience, without noise, without the pretenses of pseudo-aristocracy, people began to take off their shoes. Remi was the first; she stepped down effortlessly from her stilettos. One by one, Noel, Gill, Jim, Simoon, Remi’s mother, and Aura followed, wiping away a tear... it was a collective grounding.
“Of course, I wanted to give an... academic speech, worthy of my intelligent friend, of whom—I’ll tell you a secret, don’t tell on me—I’ve been jealous all month!”
The crowd began to laugh... this was the real Anemo. Only Daisy turned up her nose; she was the only one who kept her shoes on even though her feet had swollen, looking like donuts trapped in yellow patent leather straps.
“In the last two weeks, I’ve learned that it’s true: women cannot be tamed, and no one should ever even try. Women are simply meant to be loved... with their swarm of bees and all. Thank you!”
A roar of applause followed. Mistral, with tears in his eyes, tried to make some far-fetched excuses:
“I think I’m allergic to lilac.”
“Mistral, why are Miss Remi’s cheeks so red? Does she have an allergy too?”
“Never mind, little one, we’ll explain it to you another time... you don’t understand love yet.”
“But I love you guys!” the redhead added, convinced that he was learning more and more every day.
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