The glossy layered curves fold gentle around into a cuplike shape.  The main colour is vibrant and dramatic and transitions into a flamboyant golden colour hue at the edge in stark contrast with the main.  It dazzles the eyes if you look too long.  Inside the cup, the soft folds reveal ominous, yet velvety, filaments that poke upwards towards the rim to seek out the sunshine.    The base of the cup changes colour again, this time, to one of gentle pale green, underneath which, the supple petals merge smoothly into a rigid stalk.  Towards the base, the pale green leaves expose themselves; they are strong but soft enough to ripple like glossy waves or silken sheets, shadowing the foundation of rich dirt beneath.  Its fragrance is not sweet-smelling, but it emits a pleasant earthy aroma, one that hints of early spring and suggests more to come.

Evie stands and stares at the pot and the tulip within and gives a soft giggle. The wine glass in her hand is almost empty.

“What are you laughing at Evie?” Malcolm asks.

Evie contemplates the tulip again before she replies. “I think I have figured out why I love these flowers.”

“And why is that?” He slips his arm around her waist from behind and nuzzles her neck.

“Well…” She laughs again, “It’s not even spring, and yet here they are, on a sunny winter afternoon, displaying themselves like dancers at the Moulin Rogue. They’re so, um…. suggestive.”

His interest piques. “Suggestive, of what?”

Evie can feel Malcolm’s grip tighten on her waist, and she senses the mischievousness in his voice. She reaches around and playfully smacks the back of his head. “I’ll tell you later my love; our guests will be here any minute.”