’ Yes I did. ‘I did it because I know she likes that particular wildflower.’ It makes her happy. ‘What, still not sleeping with you?’ She’... banging me. ‘You gave her weeds and I gave her roses. And don’t say things like that so loudly. Anyone could hear.’ Kent shot a look over his shoulder at their aunt and uncle’s house. ‘Sorry. Can you get it going again?’ ‘Yeah, maybe it will last until we are done.’ Kent flipped the screwdriver into the ground plugged the motor back up and flipped the on. She had always loved literature, but ever since her husband's death, she couldn't quite rekindle her love for it. Her idle mind would always find a way to pile on the sadness she was already burdened with. It did nothing to help her move on. After about five minutes of smiling to herself, caressing herself, frowning, thinking about the person she had shared her bed with for eighteen years, she finally got in. Her thoughts then wandered towards her nineteen year old son, her only son, who was in. More

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