They liked to walk together. To the store, to church, to friends’ houses. They spent hours wandering through town, just talking, their footsteps, like heartbeats, perfectly in sync. Sometimes they’d stop by the side of the road just to sit together. Sometimes he’d pick her a flower growing in the neighbor’s garden or a nearby park. His favorite was the American Beauty rose, because it was deep red and the petals seemed to fold into each other forever. She kept the flowers in a glass of water on the kitchen table, and smiled whenever she looked at them.


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