Love in the Unseen
She brought it home on a rainy Saturday— a small pothos plant with trailing vines, its leaves slightly wilted. “It needs a little care,” she said, setting it on the windowsill. I…
Read MoreShe brought it home on a rainy Saturday— a small pothos plant with trailing vines, its leaves slightly wilted. “It needs a little care,” she said, setting it on the windowsill. I…
Read MoreSpring unfolds soft and green in the park, and the old wooden bench is half-hidden by new vine growth—tender tendrils reaching for the sun, leaves still pale with youth. I set down…
Read MoreThe first frost of winter covered the vine-wrapped bench, turning the bare tendrils white as lace, when Marisol and I stood there, our breath fogging the air. She’d been quiet all morning,…
Read MoreThe gym’s doors felt heavier than usual when we walked in that morning. A notice was taped to the front desk—“Renovation Notice: All old equipment, including wooden gymnastic benches, will be removed…
Read MoreThe first frost of autumn nipped at the gym’s windows, but inside, the air still smelled like cinnamon—lingering from the last batch of banana muffins we’d baked with the kids. Lila was…
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