The oak leaf I pinned to my cubicle wall has begun to root–without soil, water, or sunlight.
It’s been exactly a week since an oak leaf fell from the ceiling and landed on my desk. With limited botany experience and less expertise with 21st-century office ventilation, I decided to save it for further study. I pinned it to the wall, a few inches above the duck stain. When the stain started talking, I moved the leaf to the opposite wall. This morning, I noticed that the leaf had rooted.
In fact, it has grown so much in the last five days, it has unstuck itself from the pin.
The roots seem off, however. They’re stringy and transparent like fishing line or spider web. And if I look closely at them through my reading glasses, I can see small red currents moving in and out, up and down, like respiration. Or circulation. This is perhaps a side effect of fluorescent lighting. I wouldn’t know; I have little experience with plants.
The leaf itself seems to have grown, too. It now stretches away from the wall, near-perpendicular; it seems to be reaching out toward me.
Or maybe I’m imagining that it’s reaching out toward me. Perhaps it’s reaching toward my lit monitor screen. Regardless, it’s nice to have an office plant. I get lonely sometimes; ‘writer’ is such a lonely job. I need someone to talk to. Most of my coworkers wear headphones, and I’m afraid to speak to the wall.
Here’s to you, little friend. I hope you grow up big and strong.
Like what you read? There’s more.
“Morning coffee” is a serial fiction series, served fresh daily. So far, we’ve covered rubberneckers, co-workers, cubicle stains, office plants, desk trophies, conspiracies, secret organizations, pocket dimensions, black holes, and impending, inevitable doom. And that’s just the beginning.
Where should we go next? Let me know in the comment section below.