There was a single early bloom on the gerbera she had transplanted months ago at the last possible moment from the greenhouse window to the ICU corner of the planter just outside the front door. Real light, real dirt. That red. She felt it in her throat. I love that color. It makes me happy. It's not the color, her friend said. It's the beauty. Then for a long time the beauty was there, caught in her throat.
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