She had no idea which kind of plant that was – a long, stretched, sturdy pile of tiny cylinders topped with fierce almond-shaped leaves, feeble roots floating into the transparent vase – it was an omission from the moving of the previous renter of the house.
She put it in the kitchen next to the electric cooktop, but the lack of light turned the green into a dangerous deep warm yellow. She changed the water of the vase and put the plant under the skylight of the wooden roof, but then forgot about it for an abundant week.
And on a random Wednesday, back home with still her woollen coat on, the surprise to find the plant back into life again, like a silent reassure from that little living being about her capability of providing love.

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