Who am I?

Viola opens the cabin door and stands in the doorframe, listening to the water drip from the icicles.

"You knew this day would come." Viola's grandson joins her at the door.

"Flowers will be here soon" Viola says.

"Why bother?" Charles says.

Viola turns to her grandson. "If I don't bother who will?" She forces herself to unclench her fists. "This is my life Charles."

She returns her gaze outside, anticipating the arrival of the spring flowers that she will use to prepare her tinctures and salves. Her healing balms.

"He's a portly man, sure enough," Charles remarks and Viola laughs, despite her promise to herself. She watches the way he picks his way up the trail, lifting his legs up high and examining the path before he set a foot down again.

"Man isn't accustomed to walking among briars and scat."



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