It’s a parasite, ya know—Len said as he twirled his finger around, indicating the wisteria dripping from the pergola. I hadn’t known. What’s more, I didn’t want to know. Len loved to enlighten me, especially when he could destroy notions of things I loved. I nodded, unimpressed. Parasite indeed. I imagined that beetle that infiltrated spiders and took control as they ate the spider from within its own body. If one crawled into Len, it could commandeer a larger life form, eating on him for an excessively longer amount of time. I wondered how long Len would be in control of himself if this happened—a day, a week, a month. It’s a tiny beetle in comparison to a human.

I believe you can eat the blossoms—I told him and started picking some for (his) dinner. They were prettier than expected on the salad. Len didn’t notice that I took very few blossoms, and that I didn’t actually eat even those. After three long days, I asked if he was okay. He looked at me funny and asked why. I shrugged. Then I looked up wisteria on my phone. The blossoms are edible. Len’s right. I really should pay more attention to what I’m doing.