***
The first few days, I tried to persuade myself that everything would be fine.
I had the land for my roses. All I had to do was look after sweet old Rose.
Nothing too hard, right? Right.
Until she asked for steamed broccoli.
I was standing in the kitchen, covered in petals and dirt after planting new bushes.
“Sweetheart, I know you’re busy… But would it be too much to make me some broccoli? Don’t overcook it, please, my stomach can’t control it…”
I sighed and went to the stove.
The next morning, Rose wanted a tomato salad. But not just any salad.
“I know you’re the kindest girl,” she said.
“No one’s ever done something so nice for me.”
At night, I woke up to her little bell ringing. Rose wanted warm milk.
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