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The Breadwinner
“Something must be done.” Celosia came to a halt.
The shadows of the blossoms were dark as of the leaves, a reflection new to Ivy. A torpid lump it seemed, hothouse heavy, drooping to drench her in guilt. She circled the plant.
“It has changed so much.”
“You’ve been gone a…” Celosia cleared her throat.
Ivy inspected the largest sphere hanging from a thick stem. Crimson and ivory, rounder and more fabled than the moon. Inside its swirling gasses, she discerned the figure of a young girl. It was the same as when she’d come several months ago. If she left now, what would become of her?
Ivy rubbed her bare arms. If only Celosia were not here to see her shame, at least. Could nothing be done in darkness? Vicious lights pierce the private moments of life, define it with their puncturings like pinpricks in the firmament.
“Perhaps if I could be of some — ”
“I don’t want your help. Nobody else can care for this plant but me. I planted its seed. Every bauble has been the result of my own hard work. If you try to take over, it will become something else.”
“Something alive,” Celosia dared.
Ivy whirled, brushing one of the leaves with her palm. “What would you know about it? Do you know where I’ve been? Have you seen the…
