he met her on a tuesday
she was scrutinizing a patch of wildflowers and weeds. he was walking in her direction on his way anywhere else. suddenly, and with precision, she snapped off a flower with her hands, stood up, and handed it to him with perfect timing as he passed. “It was beautiful, and now it’s going to die,” she said. it was a statement of fact with no remorse for her culpability in the flower’s death and no joy in the flower’s beauty (or past beauty as she had phrased it). the only hint of emotion was a slight unreadable eyebrow furrow which indicated question more than conclusion but nothing more or less.