The beautiful tree outside the window by your desk, whose daily appearance reminds you of the changing seasons, is tired of you using it to mark the passage of time. “I’ve had enough of you gawking at me just because I serve as a natural reminder that time marches on, and with it, you grow as a person through new experiences. It’s fucking creepy,” said the tree, whose spring leaves are beginning to bud resiliently through snowcapped branches, just as we all change with the year. “Please leave me alone. I understand that my leaves shine with brilliant autumnal shades in late October, reminding you that there is beauty in decay, but I can’t help that I do that, okay? I’d prefer it if you just give me some privacy. Please know that if I could move, I would get the hell away from you.” At press time, a rainbow after a long storm feels like you’re putting too much pressure on it to be a metaphor.

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