Annie turns away a fraction and smiles to herself, and then does something so open, so honest it tears my cynical, terrified heart in half. She rests the tips of her fingers against her smiling mouth. Before she has time to notice, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of her standing there in the warm overhead lights of her shop. “Out of curiosity,” I ask later as she’s locking up and I’m walking her to her truck. “What is your favorite flower?” She drops her gaze to her white Converses and smiles. “Magnolias.”
