[ audio recording found in a computer, two voices are discernible ]
Are you writing this down? Yes. Alright, then get this: the brain is 1388 grams. Got it? Yes, got it. The flowers inside are: azalea, begonia, butterfly bush pink delight and dahlia. They’re all pink. Yes, they are all pink. They are always pink. Sometimes they are red and sometimes they are purple. Are you still writing? Yes, I’m still writing. The heart is 302 grams and the flowers are zinnia and amaryllis. The lungs, two and together, are 1.3 kilograms. Christ, they are filled to the brim with stargazer. Those look like bruises. Did you write down what I said? I did, I did. Bruised stargazer. No, just stargazer. The flowers are perfectly fine, pristine, it’s the organs that are mangled. The stomach is 95 grams. The flowers are all pink too: hollyhock, peony, meadowsweet, petunia, primrose, rocktrumpet and snapdragon. Got it? Yes, got it. Alright, onto the next one. What causes this? The flowers? They just happen, they’re as natural as permanent teeth replacing milk teeth and then growing your wisdom teeth. You’ll soon find out, I’m sure. There is stargazer in my lungs right now? There might be. I’ve got calla lily’s in my brain. Right now? Oh yeah. I thought they were the result of different flavours of love. They lied to you—this brain is 1389 grams, write it down. Nothing causes the flowers, they’re harmless too, stop fretting. You only need to worry if they outgrow you before you outgrow them. Is that preventable? I once weighed a newborn that was overrun with hibiscus. Jesus. Is it preventable? Who’s to say. Maybe you’re right and it’s love the seed, they do usually start on the brain. Maybe I will starve out the calla lilies and be the first person to go back to the earth with nothing new to grow out of me. What do you mean? 1.3 kilograms for the lungs again. I have never loved anybody, not like that. Write down what I just said. I’m writing it down. I think I love too much. Then cover your ears, so the flowers don’t grow out of them. 300 grams exactly for this heart, and look at that jacaranda.
Ester Cuervos (they/she) is an aroace nonbinary latina from Costa Rica with majoring in classical philology. They are self-taught in creative writing with a passion for stories that oscillate somewhere between reality, magic and horror, and are actually a forest naiad typing on their laptop from the bottom of a creek. Some of their work can be found at @cria.cuervoz on Instagram.