The Sorcerer's Problem

“I’m not in the mood for a date–“

“That’s not up to you, is it?” Alexander said in a low tone. He just took out a gardening knife and cut a stem of rose with one sharp snip. The flower fell to the ground and Alexander stepped on it until it pulverized into pieces. The scene sent chills down my spine.

“What’s that flower ever do to you?” I asked. I had to. Because my inkling told me that Alexander pictured me as that flower. How he crushed the poor thing so easily was similar to how he tried to put me down mentally.

Alexander put in the scissor back to his front pocket then turned to me. “What a flower does,” he said slowly, “It entices me.”

“If it gives you pleasure, shouldn’t you savor it?”

He clicks his hand and suddenly we were not in the garden anymore. The garden turned into a room dominated by black color. Black walls, black furniture, even b