The next Saturday we visited a neighborhood nursery.

I bought a potted rosemary plant and a small packet of wildflower seeds.

I didn’t have a garden yet, but the windowsill in my apartment could hold one plant, and I wanted something living that would grow because I cared for it.

The apartment itself was new.

I’d signed a short lease in a quiet building not far from the nonprofit.

There was a narrow balcony, an unreliable elevator, and a bathroom smaller than the dressing room at Dennis’s condo.