He gave me real flowers the day I knew I can never believe him again. Finally, in a pot, instead of cut and arranged and destined to die so soon.

      Ever the environmentalist, the nature girl, everyone knows this is my preference, though I said it out loud, too.

      He finally gave me the roots I always asked for in moist soil. With flowers my favourite colour, too. But only after there was no garden to plant them in anymore. 

~~

In all my sadness wrapped in anger, I kicked the flowerpot over. The flimsy plastic made it bounce a bit, but not without some skid.

    It was secretly calculated to not hurt them anyway, but I still feel bad. They didn't do anything.

    But that's the problem. They are just flowers.

    Even if they came with the roots I always wanted.