The heat advisory came through at noon, and by two the group chat was dead silent.
Usually there's someone asking for advice or sharing a photo of a kid's milestone. Not today.
I was hemming a pair of jeans, the fan just pushing hot air around the room.
The borrowed books sat on the side table—four picture books I'd picked up for a foster placement who left two months ago. I kept meaning to return them.
The library was a mile away, but I needed air. I grabbed the books and walked.
The librarian barely looked up when I handed them over. But as I turned to leave, I saw a basket by the door: 'Free seeds.' I took a packet of zinnias.
On the walk back, I imagined them blooming along the fence line. The chat was still quiet, but the silence didn't feel so heavy anymore.
When I got home, I set the seeds on the windowsill and checked my phone. One new message: 'Does anyone have a #9 needle?'
I smiled. I had two. The afternoon was ordinary again.