A Delicate Bloom

Florizel was majestic, and all the other flowers admired him immensely. Every morning he stretched out his bright red petals to face the rising sun, drawing gasps from his neighbours.

‘Nice weather we’re having,’ said Averago, gently unfurling his smaller and duller petals in the shade of Florizel. Averago and Florizel were best friends. They had known each other since they were seedlings.

‘The warmest day so far this year,’ replied Florizel. ‘This is the warmest spring in a generation, with an average maximum temperature of 25 Celsius.’

‘Is that a fact?’ muttered Averago, swaying in the warm gentle breeze while studying a small number of wispy white clouds in the distance.

Over the following weeks, Florizel produced a number of little seedlings of his own. The other flowers were more in awe than ever. ‘Florizel sure is lucky,’ they whispered to each other.

One evening, as they were preparing for nightfall, Florizel leaned towards Averago. ‘Did you know that bees can flap their wings 250 times a second?’ he said in a serious voice. ‘Butterflies manage about 20 beats a second.’

‘I did not know that,’ answered Averago.

The very next morning, Averago opened his petals and was stunned by the bright sunrays beating down on him. He was no longer in the shade. Hearing faint whimpering sounds from below, he looked down and saw the decaying body of Florizel lying on the ground, surrounded by tearful seedlings.

‘What happened to daddy?’ sobbed one of the seedlings.

Averago was distraught. He didn’t see the end coming; it was a complete shock. ‘Why did he give up, when he had everything to live for?’ he lamented to nearby friends. ‘Why didn’t he talk to me, tell me how he was feeling? One word would have been enough. A small change can make a big difference. There’s always hope. I fear for those who are left behind, the children without a father. Oh why didn’t we talk?’