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My brother was an anguished person. Mostly he just wandered. One day I was downtown and I ran into him on the sidewalk. He looked me in the eye.

“You know what my problem is?” he said. “I take the pills to stop the weeds from growing in my mind. And they do that. But I never know if the flowers have stopped growing as well.”

“I think maybe you are the flower,” I said.

“Thank you,” he said. “That would be so nice.”