A Carnation Knows

Some realisations come too late.

🌸📜🕯️

Louisa Lum's birthday began like any other. Gifts given, but drew a blank. A cake with so many candles, it frightened her. 

And of course, flowers. Roses that dulled the midlifer's spirit with their blush. 

Then, there was the pink carnation. 

A flower meant to charm. Its coy pink petals enwrapped.  To make her heart a little less hard. 

Tradition doing its quiet work. 

The flower was ordinary. Nothing about it was intimidating, at first glance. 

Then, while cleaning its vase, her fingers brushed against a thorn along its stem. 

It pricked. She backed away from the vase, and knocked into a chest of drawers behind her. 

They sprung open to reveal a stack of letters. 

Her father. Someone else - she would rather not have read about. 

It was truth, mis-timed. Cruel honesty.

Nothing broke - it wore down. There was a palpable distance between them, even while he was on his deathbed. 

And the silence created something new. 

The smell of the pink carnation's petals lifted her nostrils, just as he passed. 

And the truth hammered her heart with rusted nails. There had been clarity - but it hadn't mattered one bit. 

Damage done by a carnation's accuracy, shoving her into a drawer just then. 

Irreparable.

The pink flower wilted, leaving nothing in its wake -

Just a stack of letters, that should not have been read. 

🌸📜🕯️

Original story for National Carnation Day by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.

For Mikeydred's January challenge