Chapter Text
Pamela Isley is 5 when she realises good things never last.
Because her only companion has died; a vibrant red lily, a flower she kept in a pot on her bedside, its petals as red as her hair. But it died, as a plant does.
It wouldn’t grow leaves; it wouldn’t bloom the next spring. It wilted. Like many things do.
So she gets another friend, another red lily. She tries again. She waters it, she leaves it by her windowsill to bask in golden sun rays. Pamela talks to the flower, sings to it sometimes, caresses its leaves.
But winter comes and winter kills. The snow, the freezing cold and the forever darkened cloudy skies is too much for a flower, and so it dies, like many things do during winter.
Pamela is only five, and she doesn’t understand why nothing stays.