𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨

𝟏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐲'𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀

Present Day...

I never quite understood why some love dead flowers.

I crouch down, the dry grass and shrubs pricking the skin on my legs as I drop the fresh camelias by the dogwood tree.

How can you love dead flowers when you can love beautiful fresh living ones?

Fucking psychos.

I pick up the shrivelled up dead roses.

I am not a rose fan so I can't remember myself ever dropping roses.

They weren't here yesterday they look a week's old.

If it was to have died between the time period of yesterday afternoon to today morning it wouldn't be this shrivelled up and dry.

It's like totally dead.

And who the hell would drop dead roses under a beautiful tree as this one?

I stare up at the trees length, the sunlight peeking through its white leaves.

"Good morning." I chuckle greeting the tree, the soft breeze emanating from the lake cooling my sweaty skin from the run.

I bring out the bread and throw some in the water, the ducks and red orange white kois start competing who can get the most food.

Its such a hilarious sight, I have grown to love starting my day with.

Lake Sayuri, is one of the favourite places, I love coming to every morning, its a local hotspot for morning walk and evening walks, with the ducks and koi fish often times following you around if you feed them.

Besides you get a veiw of the hills across the lake with clouds floating around it painted by the crack of dawn.

I notice a particular black stripped orangish white koi, I have never seen that one before but then again Lake Sayuri is huge.

"That one's pretty isn't it?" I ask ideally looking up at the tree as if it would answer me.

"Talking to the tree again?" I turn my head at the familiar voice of Grace.

She is one of the morning people who comes to the lake for a morning walk.

Not really for morning walk though.

I don't really know her much apart from what I have come to know from sharing a couple morning walks with her.

She considers that to be enough to be my friend.

"I guess so." I smile.

"You ever going to tell me what you find so special about this dogwood?" Grace takes a step closer admiring the tree. "It has grown up beautifully, I will give you that."

It indeed has.

"I just like dogwood." I answer her simply petting the the small tiny seedling sprouting from its root.

"And also talking to it?" She has that mock sarcasm in her tone.

"Yeah, trees are one thousand times better than talking with people." I throw back sweetly biting back the word quidnunc people.

"Where is the lie in that." She replies tightly keeping her smile. "It just seems so weird."

And she wonders if I'll ever tell her what is so special about the dogwood.