I had a prejudice about receiving flowers. Even though I had asked my colleagues and friends never to get me roses, they still did it from time to time. It was hard to conceal the disappointment that distressing me when I saw that exquisite white box tied with a beautiful velvet ribbon. "A little flower coffin" was the first thing that came into my mind. It was true they were grown to be cut down just for joyous moments, but even so as I looked at the flawless bright buds waiting to open, I still couldn't stop thinking about them sitting on my dining room table, drying up and dropping petals. And all the while I was thinking, "pretty soon I'm going to have to throw those roses in the garbage and I'll feel bad about that too." They could be pressed in a book but either way it was all the same to them.

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