The petals are dangling low, heavy with the scent of summer. From where I lay on the cool grassy lawn, I would swear the flower was winking at me. What shall we do today, it seems to say. Will you lay here with me and enjoy the breeze or will you keep your word and fill your days with adventure?
I’m tempted by its whispering words of laziness and its little hint of folly. Go on, it says, close your eyes for just a little while. The day is still young and you can go to town anytime.
My eyelids droop and a slow smile creeps involuntarily across my face. The rose, so sweet and seductive is undeniably smiling down at me. Its little friends of varying sizes and shapes dance in the breeze, lulling me to sleep.
Suddenly, as something clicks in my head, I sit up. It’s the first day of summer, I tell myself, and I promised myself a trip to the National Gallery. There are man-made works of art to be appreciated.
The rose, aware of my decision bobs in the air. What will she do now, it wonders.
I stand and as I turn towards the house, I decide something. With a flick of my wrist, I break its neck. The others look at me, shocked. Are they angry or jealous?
“You’re coming with me.” I say and breathe in its perfume. There’s no reason why we can’t enjoy the journey together.