The sunflower looked big in her hand.  So, he trimmed it.  She handed him a vase.  Trim it too, she said.  He felt the quickness of her temper and its impeccable logic as a lash.  He could see that he had no choice but to buy her a smaller vase.  He kept the bigger one. Years later, he had it by the front door to hold the umbrella he’d take out for walks on sunny days.