But it's not the same with the greenhouse. Over and over, my mind returns to Sophia.
I drive to the hardware store to pick up some supplies. On the way back, I pass the community health center. On impulse, I pull into the parking lot.
A heavily pregnant young woman is seated at the front desk. She stares at me for a long moment. “Can I help you?”
I glance down at myself and realize that I'm covered in tile dust. Crap. I should have showered. Changed. Run a comb through my hair. Too late for any of that.
“Is Sophia around?”
“Yes,” she replies. She gives me another once-over. “Let me get her.”
Sophia comes out a few minutes later. She’s wearing a navy-blue dress that skims her knees. Her legs are bare, and she’s wearing brown sandals on her feet, with toes painted a pretty shade of pink.
She looks like she’s ready for a garden party, and I’m covered in dust from head to toe.
Then she notices me, and her eyes widen. “Julian?”