marriage, I was suddenly reacting like the twenty-six-year-old bride I’d once been, simply because I believed Daniel had surprised me.
Daniel relied on calendar alerts for birthdays and my reminders for anniversaries. His occasional supermarket flowers still wore plastic and price stickers. These were extravagant, considered, romantic. Smiling, I wondered whether his late evenings really were work and I’d imagined our distance—or whether he’d felt it too and wanted to repair it.
After signing the receipt, I carried the flowers into our quiet kitchen. The refrigerator hummed, the clock ticked
