Nadia
One month later.
"Don’t these glasses look a little crooked?" I asked, lining them up one by one for the fourth time, even though Evelyn had already arranged everything.
She rolled her eyes as she placed an arrangement of daffodils at the center of the table. The flowers had been my idea. I used to think plants were a hobby for the elderly. But after becoming responsible for taking care of my grandmother’s garden—now my garden—I ended up developing an interest in botany.
Daffodils represented new beginnings and hope, blooming in spring after winter.
They seemed to fit the current moment well.
"They’re perfect," Evelyn replied. "You’re just looking for a reason to have an anxiety attack."
Unfortunately, she was absolutely right.
"And you’re not?"
She paused, staring at me for
