The mistress begged she be killed. But he loved her. He loved her beyond the realms of time. ‘What will you give me to prove your love’ the Indian asked. I will give you a vase the European said. How strange the Indian thought, “what will I do with a vase?” she said out-loud mistakenly. “You will fill it with flowers, the ones I will bring to you when I come back from a long trip” they will remind you of me, even when I am not there. The Indian was confused...What a strange custom. Is this how they prove love? Empty vases. She should have known at that moment that like that vase, all the promises he would ever make would be just as empty. Every whisper. Every word. Every thought and act. A ploy: like that vase.