Jason threw the papers on my desk—his eyebrows knit into a straight line as he glared at me. He pointed a finger at the paper. "Next time you want to change anything, ask me first," he said, turning on his heels and leaving me in anger. "How dare he treat me like that," I thought. I had changed one long sentence, and corrected grammar, something I thought I was paid to do.
As the weeks went by, I grew to dislike Jason. One day, another of his episodes left me in tears. I stormed into his office, prepared to let the man know how I felt. I sat across from him and said calmly, "Jason, the way you've been treating me is wrong. I've never had anyone speak to me that way. As a professional, it's wrong, and I can't allow it to continue. "
Jason assumed a nervous smile and leaned back in his chair. I closed my eyes briefly. "I want to make you a promise. I will be a friend," I said. "I will treat you as you deserve to be treated, with respect and kindness. You deserve that. Everybody does." I slipped out of the chair and closed the door behind me.
Jason avoided me the rest of the week. Papers and letters appeared on my desk while I was at lunch, and my corrected versions were not seen again. I brought cookies to the office one day and left some on his desk. Another day I left a note. "Hope your day is going great," it read. Over the next few weeks, Jason reappeared but there were no other episodes.
One year after our "talk", I discovered I had cancer. I was thirty-two, the mother of three young children, scared. Friends and loved ones visited and tried to find the right words to comfort me. No one knew what to say, and many said the wrong things. Others wept.
注意：续写词数应为150左右。
One day, Jason came into the hospital room awkwardly, and placed a box beside me.
……
For ten years, I have watched those red and white flowers blossom every spring.
