On the day I arrived in Paris Colby greeted me with a unplaceable yellow flower, best explained as a gourmet dandylion. We put some water in a measuring cup and, weaving the flower through the spice rack, gave his present to me a permanent home.
Now, nearly two months later, the flower's petals are brown. It's small leaves are dark and wrinkled. I saw today that the stem was no longer touching water through a natural combination of absorption and evaporation. Colby had mentioned throwing it away but neither of us had mobilized and I wondered if today would be the day. Then I noticed that the flower, in fact, has three leaves that seem to be thriving, one of which is actually perked straight up as though attached to a plant with roots and soil.
I pulled out the measuring cup, filled half of it with fresh water, and slipped it back under and around the stem of the flower. So when somebody asks you can tell them what kind of person I am.