Sometimes I wonder whether plants understand the tragedy of their holding onto dead branches. I try to give a strategic, gentle tug. Nothing. A little firmer, then. Still nothing. Then some reasoning: "you know you're hindering your growth, right? That all the water I'm giving you goes through those roots of yours straight through that languishing branch to a dry leaf and to nothing that's going to help you out. Meanwhile that little blossom up and to your left has been waiting for some refreshment. See the brown on it? Please, respectfully; give it up. The deadness here has no potential for producing anything anymore. Up there though -- that little blossom has a chance."
No response.
I had no choice but to be firm this time. To pull, carefully still, but with even more strength. The branch let up, but not without disrupting a surrounding, developing green fruit in the process.
If only you knew the capabilities of your cooperation, little plant.