I bought two bunches of peonies and put them in one vase; I wanted you to see them but you were busy, or away. When you buy them they’re all tight and balled up like babies’ fists, but after a while they relax into their big blowsiness. Long arms with these huge open hands that had already started wilting when I realised you weren’t coming over. The petals dropped and I left them right there on the table. Now there’s a little heap of white petals under the new, pink peonies I bought this morning. One’s already started to open.
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