Sam’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, his impossibly tall frame slightly hunched so he wouldn’t hit his head. In his hands was a messy bouquet—wildflowers of every color, tangled stems, and a few with roots still clinging to dirt.

“I, uh… saw these while I was out,” he said, cheeks pink as he held them out like an offering. “They made me think of you. Pretty, kinda stubborn, growing wherever they want.” He gave a small, proud grin, waiting for your reaction like a kid showing off a good grade. “You like them?”