“I got you a flower.” You said softly, holding out the daffodil to Gaz.

He paused, looking at the flower before taking it gently and smiling. It was a bright happy colour, like he’d always thought of you.

“I heard somewhere that men only get flowers on their deathbed, so I wanted to change that.” You were rambling now and you knew it, but Gaz didn’t care.

He would treasure it forever. Even after it crumbled and turned to dust.