They sit in the glass, wilting softly, but they are not as forgotten as they seem. In fact, quite the opposite. It's been days since they were carried to her, in grubby hands with the roots still trailing. She smiled and filled two glasses of water, one for the gift and one for the giver, and placed them above the kitchen sink proudly. Now they are brown and dropping petals, despite all her efforts. Someday soon she will leave them to rot in a garbage bag, but that doesn't matter; it was never about the cheery colors or the perky leaves. It was about the love, and death can't remove that. — By Mikki H, March 8, 2014