Recovery

"This reminds me — I had lunch in a garden-themed bar last week."

"Really?" she says, wishing that he would talk about anything but food.

"I ordered pâté with bread and chutney. The pâté was served in a plant pot, and the chutney was piled into a miniature wheelbarrow."

"How kitsch."

"Try this," he says. "It was a cutting, from Mum’s garden."

"And now it’s here," she says, cupping a bloom in her palm and burying her nose into the thick, velvety petals.

"Anything?"

"No — nothing."

"I’m sure it’ll come back. Give it time."

"Time?" she says, laughing.