“I love you, I love you not”…. I use to go through several dozen flowers a day. Sitting on the floor of the house; lying back on searing asbestos with a whole bunch of my neighbor’s prize collection of roses.
I would hold them just above my head and break them very so gently, petal by petal muttering to myself as they fall only to get breezed away by the slightest of winds.
Petal by Petal; that was the rule; I love you; I love you not; that was the pattern; yet as I approach the last petal; the “Not” always made me hesitate at first; only to bend the rules and that Petal become two; so it wont end as a “Not”. For, I was 16 and nothing else made more sense that those 3 words;
Argh…. I am so jealous of my 16 year old self. Reality check: back to my procedure assignment now.