Potted Plant
The plant asked the trees how they grew so tall. Like always, their lumbering voices echoed through the window. The trees answered that it takes time for a tree to grow so tall. They were the patient and kind pines, unlike their much more arrogant cousins, the oaks; at least, so say the pines. Not that the potted plant could ask anybody else. For the plant was in a pot and could not move by himself. The potted plant was envious of the pines, seeing them tower so tall, able to stand by themselves. These pines were not bound by the whims of anybody else. They did not have someone move them around, taking them away from the sun, the rain, the wind. The trees simply breathed and lived while he sat by the windowsill in silence. Then, one day, a storm appeared and shattered the window and hurtled him across the winds. And the pain, as he came down, delivered freedom. Pain swept through him. He had never felt such pain before. Not in all the years of life since he became a plant from a seed, ...