“What is he doing in the backyard?” I asked, walking in that direction. Mary followed me, bouncing Talon the whole way. We walked into the sunroom and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at Graham as he cut the grass. Against the small shed lay bags of soil and shovels. “Well, it seems he’s making a garden.” My chest tightened at the idea, and no words came to me.
for her 🥲
