Sense sat down on his couch, and on the table there were fresh new flowers, fresh new flowers that had never been there before. Sense had read about botany, read every word about irises and hibiscus flowers, but at the same time, he was reading about weeds and dandelions, and how dandelions were beautiful, but yet weeds that ate up gardens. The perspective was all wrong, he thought, how could it be a flower and a weed. And how could it be so beautiful but hated by mowers and gardeners alike.
These were freshly picked dandelions in a crystal vase. Sense was poor, it definitely was not in his nature to buy anything crystal. So who was here? And why was it so cold. And where were his journals? Sense kept journals for the last fifteen years, of everything he had read, everything he learned. He wrote about his love, each like a lyric, his poems told the tale of his life. Why would someone want to take the only thing that proved that Sense ever existed? What was the smoke in the Kitchen? Sense realized quickly that the smoke was from the stove, he had left on accidentally before his morning coffee. And that was the reason for the smoke. But why would anyone want his journals?
Sense began to think of all his enemies. He had really no enemies, but in his mind, everyone he met on the street was an enemy. Another person to get close to, and then to leave him. Why bother, he thought. Why bother with interpersonal contact, it was all a waste of time. Sense thought back to his high school days, there was the one kid who tormented him daily, throwing him down bleachers in front of the whole gym class. Then there was the football team, who liked to call him names, spit at him, or what they called gleeking. By the way, Sense thought, gleeking must have been the stupidest thing one could do besides, that finger trick, where you slap two fingers together. What was wrong with trends in the nineties? So those were his enemies from school, But they were all just kids. Sense really had no enemies. So who took his journals? And why? Sense looked closely around his apartment, which now had become a crime scene. The love letters, crumpled up, Sense realized those were from last night, as he drank to cool his jets after a long day of soul crushing work.
The love letters, were to a beautiful girl he had met in the library many moons ago. He remembered her well, her eyes burned in his memory. Her lips, her beautiful visage, her long legs, and perfect chest, her voice, the way she whispered to him. The way she walked away from him, and never spoke to him again. The crushing blow of defeat, still lingered within him. Why did he care so much, to keep the letters, and what happened to make her leave him. It all was relative, and yet it all had escaped him, like the past few years. Sense had become numb. Sure Sense had many girlfriends, some serious, but his heart remained numb. That was the reason he wrote those letters. Letters to the one that left him, and changed his life, and just recently did he remember why.