The Flesh-Wish

My roommate brought back a peculiar potted plant that didn't bloom, claiming it could grant wishes. I paid it no mind, until my graduate school admission was stolen by her, and my health took a sharp turn for the worse. On my deathbed, I saw the flower finally blossom; its core was a perfect, twisted image of my face. Vicky, my roommate, stroked its petals, her smile gentle. "Thank you, Ivy. You granted my deepest desire." I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day she carried the plant into our dorm room. "Ivy," she asked, "should we raise it together?"