The flowers died on Monday.
I expected it, If I were being honest. Nobody had watered her like she was supposed to be watered. It’s quite depressing, she was an exquisite type of herbal flower. Calendula was the name if I remember correctly, though her name didn’t matter because it was the least interesting thing about her. Whenever someone would pass, she would shine under the caress of our enormous star, though not many people noticed as they all preferred roses. Roses were everybody’s favorite. I had watched the owners plant Calendula in their garden just three weeks ago. They had said what a charming flower it was but never knew that it was used to cure for the reason that it was the most useless characteristic she owned. Her beauty was appreciated throroughly the first few days after being embedded but it obviously didn’t last. No one ever took the time to count her petals; it was the part of her that everyone overlooked. The wind would bend the stems of it, making them look crooked - no one knew that it was easily reparable since no one cared enough to give just five minutes of struggle. She had so much to give but it didn’t matter as roses were favored, who on the other hand, had thorns.
Teenage girls would play with her by picking out her petals to know if the boy they had feelings for had them too. It hurt her terribly, but as long as she was making them joyful, she didn’t reflect about the consequences. She always had hope that her owners would eventually come with water as she was dying of thirst, even when she saw them water the roses and forget about her. Hope seemed to keep her up float, until one day it just didn’t suffice.
That is why on Monday, they took out the Calendulas and planted more roses. She was just never enough.
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