above the door, and a neighbor mowed two houses away. It was an ordinary Thursday. I had imagined a marriage breaking with thunder, shattering glass, perhaps a scream. Instead sunlight crossed the floor while I filled a vase, trimmed stems, and adjusted the arrangement twice.
The little cream envelope was tucked between two roses. I smiled at the sight of it, already picturing an awkward but affectionate note. Perhaps For putting up with me, or Dinner Saturday?, or simply Love you. Daniel rarely elaborated. The card was thick, but the
