It began, as most deeply disconcerting days do, with a houseplant holding a grudge.
Gregory woke to find a small envelope propped against the ficus. The ficus was named Terence, had a suspicious lean, and once thrived solely on spite and classical piano playlists.
Gregory opened the envelope.
> "Dear Gregory,
I have endured much.
Indirect light? Ha.
Your promises of repotting? Lies wrapped in good intentions.
Watering schedules? Fiction.
I am moving to the balcony for emotional distance.
Don't follow.
-T."
Gregory gasped. "Terence… left me?"
Joy peeked in with a bowl of motivational oatmeal. "Was this… a plant breakup?"
Maurice, already in a robe labeled Emotionally Unavailable But Fashionable, frowned. "Do you think he'll do a tell-all on Instagram?"
Picklebot-9000 wheeled over with a tiny ficus-sized suitcase and a sign that read Live. Laugh. Photosynthesize.
"Honestly," Picklebot beeped, "he deserves this arc."
