ended the call. I walked outside. The late October air was cold enough to smell clean. I sat on the top porch step behind my workshop and held my phone in both hands. The garden I had planted when I bought the house stretched along the fence. Hydrangeas. Lavender. Native grasses. A young redbud tree already taller than I was.
Everything there had begun as something small
Everything there had begun as something small enough to carry in one hand. Marcos found me twenty minutes later. He didn’t ask what
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