Winston lowered his eye on the plants, telling them to behave.
They never did. They grew if they wanted and didn’t if they didn’t.
He loved them anyway. He wished they were taller than him so they could look down on him, give him orders, pay his bills, tell him what to say to his boss, do the shopping, invest in the proper stocks, steal fancy items for him from Tiffany’s.
He longed for a plant to water him and talk to him. He wanted something that carried things.