When Intimacy Dies

I bought a cactus to practice intimacy. It thrived on neglect, resented touch, and punished affection. When it finally died, I felt relieved. At last, a relationship where neither of us had to pretend growth meant happiness, compromise, or water. Even grief felt optional and nobody sent flowers or questions.

***Faster than a speeding gummy, able to leap small buildings at a single bound Flash Fiction is a guaranteed page turner.

⚠️ Satire rules here. If you are looking for facts, bring your own. If you are looking for spiritual, economic, or moral counseling, try prayer. Just do not bring any lawyers around this entertainment-only venue.