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Agatha’s Point of View
A large caper bush grew against the south wall of the grove where the stone held heat from the day before and released it slowly through the night. By dawn, the warmth was still there—faint, rising through my bare feet on the dirt, mixing with the cooler air that came off the ridge. The buds were tight and green, and I had no idea what I was doing with them.
“You are doing it wrong.”
I spun around and saw her smiling at me like I was her oldest friend.
“Rosa.”
“Hi Agatha.”