I hate flowers. I hate people giving me flowers. Flowers belong it a garden, full of light and happiness. Flowers belong in the windy fields, surrounded by mystery. Flowers don’t belong in the local shop or in someone’s house. Flowers don’t belong in my house. They most certainly don’t belong in the yellow vase on my desk. They don’t belong here, watching me, criticizing me, mocking me for my ruined marriage. He gave them to me three weeks ago, and they are still alive, unlike my marriage.
These flowers don’t belong here. I hate flowers.
M. Stefanova, 31 January 2013