The Gardener

Tod woke up to the soft, but deliberate sounds of raindrops pitter-pattering. He thought of Jenny. Of Hannah. Of Sofia. All his greatest achievements, and his greatest losses. He had worked so hard, given up so much, and taken so many—too many risks.

The rain intensified, and the drops fell in quicker successions. He felt that if they fell any harder, they would perforate even Emma’s waxy cuticle, the next victim in a series of failures. Heart racing and cortisol flooding his body, he lay there, soaking in the possibilities and horrors. He could not fail her, not this time.