I grew a flower, an orchid. Pretty color. A little lazy, this flower, hanging toward the ground like it might sniff out more water, but a nice flower.She didn't say pretty when I gave it to her. She didn't say lazy either. Limp. That's what she said.
I gave her the poem after the flower. And then candy. Unoriginal, cheap. A stuffed animal holding a ridiculous stuffed heart big as my fist.
The flower was the prize. The rest was garnish, afterthoughts, something you only think about when its standing. Right in front of you.
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