The plant I got for my birthday Withers in the cold air. It doesn't do well in winter. The top of it's stem is pink, Stressed from too much sun. I set it in the window sill And forgot to move it back To the small plate on the corner Of my desk where it lives. It's never fully recovered. There's a bend in it's stem, It leans a little too far one way. I wouldn't say it's thriving, But it's somehow still alive. I guess that's what matters.