He walked back to the bathroom, dripping. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her writing traced in the fading steam on the mirror, “Sorry!” with a little heart traced underneath.
A faint chill began to seep around the edges of the room, but very slowly. A light breeze lifted some crumbs off one of the tables, and ruffled the flowers in their vase. Julie stood still, listening for sounds that would indicate some disaster or threat, but all she could hear was her own ragged breathing.
One jade plant, thriving just to spite me. Last watered 29 days ago. She bought it at one of those corner store florists on Fraser Street, because the owner said it would bring prosperity. I don’t know if it worked or not. Her money always seemed to turn into stationery or pussy willows or pointless knick-knacks.