Death of rose, Day 1: PM

After meeting Mummy I was wrapped in wet paper and a plastic bag and handed to the little boy.

His strange frolicking gait gave me whiplash and soon my proud head was hanging precariously from my stem.

I was cradled on the front seat of the car, between the handbag and a pre-fold nappy.

After the drive Mummy, recut what was left of my once graceful neck – now a mere stump, and placed me in a little old vase. Finally, I could drink …

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