V. Wilted.

The little martian can’t understand why I have such old flowers in my room.

“They are pretty” I tell him for the 4th time that day.

“but they are dead” he grounds out.

“That doesn’t stop them from being beautiful!”

“They are past their prime.” He insists.

“Just because something isn’t the best it can be doesn’t mean you throw it away” I retort, visibly proud of myself.

The little martian rolls his eyes

“You worship wilted flowers not because they were once pretty but because you’ve convinced yourself that they are still blooming. The. Flowers. are. dead. “

I tell the little martian to take a nap.