The sycamore trees outside my apartment opened their leaves, one green fist at a time.

I added mint, basil, and a pot of marigolds to my balcony.

The lemon tree survived, although Sam insisted we were one breeze away from disaster.

I started volunteering at the community arts center on Tuesdays.

I helped organize old records and taught a small group of teenagers how to repair simple household items safely under supervision.

They called me Miss Loretta, the way Marcus still did.

One afternoon, a girl named Talia stayed behind after class.