I bought flowers and hid the receipt from myself in my bag

Dear Delyara, I’m laughing writing that because it’s ridiculous and completely true. I wanted the flowers. I also knew the guilt would arrive later when I looked back through the week’s spending and saw them there — one small unnecessary softness next to all the practical costs, all the pressure, all the things that matter more. So I stuffed the receipt into my handbag like I was trying to protect one tender decision from the accountant living in my own head. That’s what money does to me sometimes. It doesn’t only limit spending. It contaminates pleasure with self-surveillance. The flowers still made the table kinder. I still think they were worth it.