I just killed a flower. A rose, actually. A red one. You see, I was about to climb into bed when I remembered I hadn’t put this rose I bought from a little boy in water. Not wanting it to die overnight, I tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen, where I began trying to pull the rose out of the plastic cone it was wrapped in. It seemed to be stuck with tape, so I pulled harder. Next thing I knew, the top of it popped off. Now I had a stem in one hand and a rose in the other. I felt absolutely terrible.
Not one to give up so easily, I filled a tiny coffee cup with water and dunked the head of the rose in there. I don’t know how long it’ll last.
It smells really nice, too. In science class back in the day, we learned that plants are living creatures. If that’s true, did this rose have any feelings? I really, really hope not.
I’m sorry, rose.