He knew that if given another minute with her, he wouldn’t be able to shirk and he would have to talk about his famous ancestors, whom he despised as much as the miniature botanical garden.He hated all the trees, bushes and perennials that he had to regularly fertilize, water, sprinkle and trim. He kept them alive only for the sake of his brother, who sometimes came for a weekend on his way to a scientific conference or a lecture, to see the work he had created with his mother and grandmother during his childhood.He loved his brother above all else, that's why he cared for the weeds, as he affectionately called them, and hoped that one day the plants would die a ‘natural death’ - they would freeze in winter when he forgets to turn on the heating, or a draft or cigarette smoke will finish them off.So he cared for them carefully. He smoked in the living room, opened all the windows, made drafts, turned off the heating, deliberately forgot abou
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