That one day when it looked like spring, I found sprouted bulbs that somehow got unearthed in front of the house, took them home and planted them. To be honest, I wasn't really hoping anything would happen - I've tried to sustain countless plants and the only one that has survived my care so far is the IKEA bamboo stick.
I like that even though they've grown, they kind of still carry their yesterday with them. There's still a ring of dirt on the smaller one from when it was half covered in earth and the taller one still carries one of my fingerprints.
I have no idea what they are. Maybe daffodils. Or some kind of alien life. Based on their prosperous existence in my botanically hostile room I'm pretty much betting on the latter.