Gable returned in early spring, when the maple outside our window was covered in pale buds.

This time she came to visit Marian, not to correct her grandson.

The two women sat in the garden room with tea and a plate of biscuits, swapping stories about stubborn husbands, recipes, and what they missed most about their younger years.

Every now and then I heard laughter from down the hallway.

Lucas stopped by after work carrying fresh flowers.

He looked uncertain as he approached the doorway.