She had on her soft gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt.

She was twisting the ankle of her left sock with her little fingers.

“Are those for us?” Emma asked in a very small voice.

“They’re just flowers,” I said.

“A man brought us some flowers.”

I signed the electronic pad the deliveryman held out.

He nodded and left, pulling the apartment door shut behind him.

The smell of damp soil and heavy floral perfume quickly filled the little room.