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werewolf
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for a pretty lady he'd say ironically everytime he gave her flowers, which he did often despite the fact they both knew she could care less about flowers. she had no use for them, disliked them out of a field or painting- they were so quickly dying and needed care and she had enough to keep alive as it was. But he still did it. It was his way of saying I was thinking of you but had no time to buy a thoughtful present or I was too lazy, or there was nothing perfect, or even what made you think i was god damn thoughtful in the first place. He bought her flowers like some men call their girlfriend outside of the bar while carousing with friends: not ideal but a gesture none the less, an innocent petlike gesture. they both knew it was like an infant reaching, and yet neither of them could resist it.
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040413
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