A Trip Down Memory Lane
Susanna let out a long sigh and shook her head, damp brown hair falling into her eyes as she looked at the terracotta pot on the windowsill. The seedlings inside were wilted; their tiny, delicate leaves curled in a mockery of her tender care. She brushed the hair out of her eyes slowly and rubbed one hand across them, defeated. Plants just did not like her, she thought as she drifted out of the kitchen and went back to her computer. Sue's husband snored upstairs. He worked night shift, which...