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Nurture

"Oh, tell me little rose, what are your thoughts on this?" Said the farmer.

"Now, now" Said the bright red rose, whose stem was smooth as sand; "Aren't you guided by your heart?". The farmer stood still, as the seconds passed, processing the words of their companion. "Does that mean I chose correctly? I can't help but wonder of the possibilities, the words not said, the other side of the story. Is that unhealthy for my poor mind?". "Yes, very much so my child" the rose replied, "What is overthinking but a plague for your soul? Don't let it take roots!" The farmer took in the words of the flower, but felt unsatisfied. "Even though I do not doubt your judgment, there is but one question that lies deep inside my heart" the farmer paused. "Am I a truthful person?". "Now, that's complicated, is it not?" the rose replied.

"Truthful to whom, yourself? Or to your peers?"

"Both?" the farmer doubted.

"Ah, I see".

A long pause took hold.

"So?" the farmer inquired.

"I believe so, yes"

"Are you saying what I wish to hear?"

"How dare you insinuate that!" It replied disgusted.

"Are you really a pure, red rose?"

Silence, it did not dare to respond.

"You're not deaf. Say something" the child said angrily.

Silence.

"Please, just say what you really think"

The air became heavy.

"Stop this!"

In a fit of rage, the grip of the kid slowly became more and more tight, as to try to squeeze the response out of its victim.

"You do not wish to know" the rose finally said.

"I do! I do!" the kid screamed at the rose.

The rose remained silent. The kid, trying to torture it, plucked a petal from the rose.

"Will you tell me now?!" he shouted.

She plucked another petal.

"Respond!" They shouted

It plucked petals from the rose.

"Fucking say something!"

More petals flew.

"You are nothing without me! You hear me? You, are, me!" the kid screeched.

The rose remained in the fist of the child, now completely devoid of its petals. It had no life, no dreams, no thoughts, no soul; only a stem, smooth as silk.