A small round cactus with a single pink bloom, sitting in dark brown crochet soil inside a coiled jute basket. Palm-sized.

It fits the corner of a desk that's already too full, a bathroom shelf, a windowsill you walk past. Small enough that putting it somewhere isn't really a decision — you try it in one spot, and if it doesn't work you move it.

Real cacti are supposedly the easy ones, which is why it stings when they go soft and collapse in on themselves. This one needs no water and no light, and holds its colour indefinitely.

No spines, so it can go where hands go.