(and what he uses for fertilizer)
by Lisa McCourt Hollar
"Cornelius," Gwynn begged, "please listen to me."
"This isn't what it looks like," Arnie offered.
Arnie was kneeling in the bed behind Gwynn. It was exactly what it looked like.
Cornelius grasped Arnie's wrist, nearly breaking it. Pulling the flower from his hand, he lifted the blossom to his mouth, kissing the dew on the hastate petals. He'd spent hours cultivating the hybrid. How could Gwynn allow Arnie to trapse through his flower beds and rip it out?
"It's just a flower. You can always grow more."
Cornelius felt the rage that gardening kept at bay and let it loose.
Word Count: 200