there was a florist and i really liked it, all the colours and flowers and tubs and bouquets and it was really just gorgeous, sort of too pretty for words. you know, like stars when the sky is the deepest sort of black; like how sometimes you can smudge paints together to create an image of clouds in front of a setting sun that takes your breath away; like you.
i told you my one rule when it comes to flowers, but it was too late, you had already bought me thirteen pink tulips. i smiled and thanked you and they were really beautiful but it made me a little sad because i would rather a rose bush for my backyard, a strawberry plant, a walk through the botanical gardens. something that wouldn’t wither away within days, something solid and lasting, like i hoped we would be.