Bonsai - Fiction


 


He let the bonsai die and I knew he was a bastard. After I found the trail of dead brown leaves on the floor that led to the garbage bin, I asked him - why? Why didn't you take care of it? You wanted that bonsai, wanted to prove something to me. I closed my eyes in frustration and sighed. Why, I asked a final time. Simple, he said in a tone that held a smile. I opened my eyes. It was never about the bonsai, he added. It was about you taking care of me. I slowly sat down on the floor while my eyes never strayed from his face. I need you, he said. I need you to pick up where I've left off. That bonsai represented my last fling with being responsible. He leaned forward and whispered - it's up to you now. I knew he was right. I knew that, even though I was furious at him for allowing that bonsai to die, he knew that I would make things right. I would swoop in with my flowing white cape and make everything better. I smiled back and then got up and walked into the bedroom. He joined me several minutes later to find me packing a suitcase. Going somewhere, he asked as a hint of worry entered his voice. I'm making things better, I replied as I closed the suitcase and snapped it shut. I'm leaving. I grabbed my suitcase and left the room as my black cape fluttered behind me with no breeze. 



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