The voice of flowers

Chuck was already at work: standing at the bar counter and wiping mugs. At that moment, Barry walked into the bar.
He silently sat at the counter, exchanging glances with Chuck. The latter, without asking unnecessary questions, understood what the guest needed, and began to pour beer. The mug made a dull sound as it landed on the counter next to Barry.

– Listen, Barry, do you know what's going on in the city? - Chuck asked, leaning on the counter. - Police cars have been racing back and forth since morning.

– I know, - Barry replied shortly, taking a sip. - Remember how they dug up a whole bunch of flower bulbs at the Becker fields? Almost immediately after planting. So, they caught that guy. Turns out he used his father's truck, and the tread marks gave him away. Didn't even bother changing the tires. But why be surprised: he's nuts. Been in the loony bin more than once.

– Well, he's not that crazy if he had the brains to steal, - Chuck smirked. - I wonder, did he manage to sell them?

– Don't jump to conclusions, - Barry stopped him. - He lived on the farm with his father. The old man was always on business trips, and the guy was taking care of the farming. Turns out they had greenhouses, so he transplanted all the flowers there. And when he was being arrested, the cops asked him why he did it. And you know what he said? "Flowers 'scream' when they are cut. You just don't hear it." So, most likely, he's back in the loony bin.

Chuck thoughtfully rubbed his chin.
– Maybe he's right. You know, I read a book recently, and there was this idea: "Crazy people are those who couldn't prove the reality of their worlds." Literally, I can't remember, but something like that.

– Yeah, crazy. And by the looks of it, you're not far behind either, - Barry scoffed. - And you, think about it: what did he feed on then? If it was meat, then the animals certainly feel fear of death. They have hearts, brains, and warm blood, just like us.

– Maybe he only heard the flowers, - Chuck shrugged.

Barry nodded and smiled slightly.
– Chuck, here's what I'll tell you: never go to a psychotherapist. They might move you in with a flower lover, close your bar, and I'll be left without your craziness that I'm already used to.

Chuck smiled, lazily wiping the counter.
– Barry, how do you know all the details? You weren't his accomplice, by any chance?

– Nah, - Barry waved his hand. - My cousin is a cop. He was actually involved in the arrest, so he told me all the details.

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