. . . edge in sweetly

. . . I was often at a loss.

Which is why there are so many photographs of flowers – they are easy to find, thanks to Great-Uncle Googly – and seemed to fit the persona I’d created to a tee.  Flowers, I discovered, speak for themselves.

Which must be why people like to give them at death and birth and marriage and all the other times too big for words. . . .

.

[story: “a fiction: True Confessions“]

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