As I was walking through the endless gardens, smelling each flower as I often would, I came across a flower sweeter than any I had ever smelled. The flower was delicate, and the whitest of whites, and as I smelled it, it called to me to be picked. I wanted the flower, and the flower wanted me, so I picked the flower and brought it home with me. The flower made me happy, and I made the flower happy. I watered it each day and did all that I could to take care of the flower. But each day, I saw the flower wilt. More and more each day the flower wilted. And I tried to ask the flower what was wrong, but the flower was happy and refused to tell me. Looking back, deep in my heart, I knew what was wrong, but I selfishly couldn't believe it. And I believe that deep down the flower knew what was wrong, but was too happy to accept it. So one day, as I brought the flower with me on a walk, I planted it into the ground. I could not plant the flower where I had found the flower, because I had already ruined the flower to the point that it could not return. So I planted the flower carefully in a new spot. The flower was sad and surprised. I was sad though I knew it was coming. But I knew in my heart that the flower would be picked by someone else and would thrive and grow more beautiful. The new owner and the flower would be happier than I and the flower were capable of. And I went back to walking through the gardens, hoping that there was a flower meant for me.