She was born with armfuls of roses, and cast into a marketplace that dealt only in stems.  She carried those precious flowers for years, like wayward orphans perched in the cradle of her arms, refusing to give up on their beauty.  But over time her arms grew weary, and the stark sight of her flowers of red against their stems of green began to singe her.  Finally, she tore off all her petals, one by one, until at last she was left with stems no different from theirs.

“Oh!” they exclaimed, as if seeing her for the first time.  “What a remarkable bunch of stems!” The verdant freshness of her stalks won her lovers everywhere.  But as she went to bed each night, she slept with the exhaustion of one whose rose-drunk heart spends each day feigning interest in dispassionate stems.  She dreamt endlessly of her missing roses; of the exquisite texture of each petal as it had once kissed her skin, of the vibrancy of that blushing scarlet pallor, of the heady perfume that had once enraptured her thoughts every time she inhaled, now singing to her with its phantom notes. The world was at her feet, but she felt bitter, empty, and distant. The love they gave her felt like an illusion; she hungered for reality.

Finally, the day came when her yearning for truth outweighed her desire for the pleasure of acceptance. As certainty filled her heart, her roses grew back, now more luxuriant and beautiful than ever. The day they fully bloomed, she took a deep breath and stepped into the marketplace again. As she approached the crowd that had once clamored for her affection, she drew icy, venomous stares and expressions of astonishment.  The people began to whisper among themselves, some audibly laughing as they chided her. She smiled with relief, knowing she had made the correct decision. From that day onward, she walked happily through the streets of the marketplace, leaving a trail of fragrant petals everywhere she went.

Over time, something strange happened: the roses that had once drawn scorn and censure became widely, deeply loved. Soon enough, the marketplace was aflood with beautiful roses in every shade and texture, the air perpetually perfumed by their alluring scent. Occasionally, newcomers would arrive, each bringing a new array of flowers; lilies, sunflowers, orchids, irises, peonies, and more, until the once-colorless marketplace became a vibrant paradise filled with every imaginable hue.  As each new person arrived, the bearer of roses came to greet them, ensuring that they would never feel alone.

x r