Emma: [placing a vase of white flowers on the table] There we go. Doesn’t that brighten the room?
Sophie: [gasping] Emma! Tell me those aren’t hawthorn flowers.
Emma: They are. Why? They’re lovely—smell a bit odd, though.
Sophie: Odd? Emma, you’ve basically invited death into your flat!
Emma: [laughs] What are you talking about?
Sophie: The old saying: “Bring hawthorn into the house and someone will die.” It’s bad luck. Always has been.
Emma: Oh, come on, Sophie. That’s just a superstition. It’s a plant, not a hitman.
Sophie: [serious tone] You think I’m joking? My nan swore by it. She wouldn’t even let us walk past hawthorn in bloom.
Emma: And did anyone in your family mysteriously drop dead because of a twig in the house?
Sophie: No, because we never risked it! That’s the point.
Emma: [grinning] By that logic, I could say, “Never let a penguin in your house or you’ll have bad luck.” If no penguin ever comes in, it’ll seem like the rule works.
Sophie: That’s different. This goes back hundreds of years. People believed it for a reason.
Emma: Yeah, and people used to believe the earth was flat. Doesn’t mean they were right.
Sophie: [folds arms] You know hawthorn smells like death, right? Like rotting flesh. That’s why they used it in funeral wreaths.
Emma: [sniffs the flowers] Smells… earthy, I guess. But I Googled it—well, ages ago—and the smell comes from a chemical called trimethylamine. It’s the same stuff released when tissue breaks down, so yeah, it’s a bit grim, but it’s just chemistry, not a death omen.
Sophie: Ugh, even the science makes it sound creepy.
Emma: Exactly! Science explains it. No curses, no reaper hiding in the petals. Just molecules.
Sophie: Still, what if… you know… it brings bad energy?
Emma: Sophie, the only “energy” in those flowers is from the sun through photosynthesis. If anyone dies in here, it’ll be from boredom listening to flower conspiracy theories.
Sophie: [laughs] You’re such a pain. But fine, you’re confident enough to keep them?
Emma: Absolutely. If anyone keels over, I’ll admit you were right, and I’ll even let you haunt me.
Sophie: Deal. But don’t blame me if your toaster explodes or something.
Emma: If my toaster explodes, I’ll blame you for speaking it into existence.
Sophie: [smiling] Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Emma: [raising her mug] To hawthorn: the most misunderstood shrub in Britain.
Sophie: [raising hers] And to me not visiting you until those flowers are gone.
Science Vs Superstition 
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