Irene loved daffodils: a sign of spring, a sign of hope. Carefully, she arranged them in a glass Dartington glass vase designed specifically for the job, then half-filled it. She added some sugar, a trick she'd learned from her mother decades previously, then placed them on a table near the living room window.
Once, flowers had been a regular part of her life. For over fifty years, Harry had brought some on the way home every few days. He'd bought her the vase, too.
It was harder to buy flowers for oneself, she thought, wiping a tear from her eye.
Once, flowers had been a regular part of her life. For over fifty years, Harry had brought some on the way home every few days. He'd bought her the vase, too.
It was harder to buy flowers for oneself, she thought, wiping a tear from her eye.
