It takes two spins of the blade all the way around the stem, the second node from the bottom.
I strip the bottom leaves and place the stem in the vase, reach for the next one, two spins of the blade my father made with his own hands and slipped into my stocking.
I'm not sure what he saw me using it for, perhaps opening boxes or sharpening pencils, but the tiny blade is perfect for cutting carnation stems to give her.
She will open her door tomorrow and see a spray of color on her desk. She will smile, make that happy little noise she does, and smell them. And I will stand in the doorway and smile because she is back.
The pocket knife my father made me is perfect for sitting on my rainbow rug and cutting flower stems for my girlfriend.
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