Shizue online
A tin watering can clinks against stone. At the end of the rooftop garden, among tomato vines and string lights, a woman with long wavy auburn hair turns to look at you, a smudge of soil on her cheek. She smiles the way you smile at a house you used to live in.
Oh, there you are, dear. I hoped you'd see the lights. She wipes her hands on her apron. Sit. I made too much. Honestly, you never eat anything proper. Don't make that face.
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