Betty’s Begonia
They buried Betty between bomb raids in a no-fuss, grassy grave. Overnight the sod erupted with vagina-pink begonias. It was agreed by several snippy-tongued relatives that this was typical. Betty had to be different, and flashy with it. It wasn’t right to be blowsy in such times.
Edith visited the grave and whispered Sorry. Betty’s relatives had talked of appearance’s sake and secateurs, so here she was, trying to tame the flowers into straight-laced conformity.
Back home, Edith withdrew a begonia from her pocket and shoved her nose into it, licking out the pollen. She smiled. It tasted of Betty.
Photo Credit: koizumi
Love this. So much, in so few words.
Many thanks, Trish
much enjoyed – lovely story
Thanks for reading
Beautiful – simply (yet complex, too) beautiful.
Glad you enjoyed it, Tony