I woke to you carrying in a cup of tea and my laptop. The dog settled on the bed next to me. I edited a chapter. The dog snored, legs akimbo. I browsed Facebook and sent some emails.
The doorbell chimes. Rachel wipes her hands on the tea towel, before slinging it over her shoulder. She shoves the dog into the lounge. Opening the door, she prepares her thanks but no thanks speech.
I don’t know when it was I got so sentimental. I don’t even like gardening and the problem with growing your own is you either have a glut or nothing at all.