You come home, kiss your wife Amanda, hug your daughter Lila, and spend the day in your basement. This has been your routine for the past year. You do this so often, your wife is worried, and your kid is missing her other parent.

What they don’t know, is that you’ve been building a colorless flower, day by day, petal by petal, with your own hands. What the flowers made of, you don’t know. You’re not even sure how you made it.

There’s a knock on the basement door.