Freesias

I can’t stand bloody freesias. Had them in my wedding bouquet. They were white and pink and smelled like summer and happy ever after.

Only I ain’t gonna get neither by the looks.

I’m stuck here in perpetual winter, and the asshole I was stupid enough to marry has sashayed off back to his momma in sunny Florida.

Last week he sent me the divorce papers I been kind of expecting. I signed them and found myself smiling for the first time in months.

This morning my big bear of a neighbour brought me freesias. These ones smelled like hope.