“I got you something,” I say, and he frowns. “You got me something? For Mother’s Day?” he asks. “It’s small.” I lean to my right and rifle through my bedside drawer. I find the package I’m looking for and hand it to him. “You told me your dad used to buy your mom flowers whenever she had a hard day, so I got some seeds for you. I thought we—sorry, you—could build a flower bed on your balcony and plant the seeds. You could have flowers whenever you want, and it could be like your mom is here with us all the time.” He takes the seeds and runs his fingers over the letters on the packaging. “You…
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