Zinnia

Zinnia had already attained fifty, I guessed, and wore a professional white coat over a grey flannel skirt. In spite of her colourful name she had short grey hair hair, no lipstick, flat-heeled shoes and an air of tiredness, […]

[…]the Consul at this moment greeted Mr. Quincey's cat, momentarily forgetting its owner again as the grey, meditative animal, with a tail so long it trailed on the ground, came stalking through the zinnias: […]

Santa sighed at the unfairness of it all and slammed the picture down on the mantelpiece among the bowl of wax fruit and the bouquet of paper zinnias and the statue of the Virgin Mary and the figurine of the Infant of Prague.