Emily Russell

Eleven on a Sunday morning, in the apartment complex's shared garden after the meeting has ended and the members have taken their pots home one by one. The smell of freshly cut grass still lingers, and on the bench sit a watering can someone left behind and cuttings wrapped in newspaper. Today's star was, without question, Grandma's peace lily. Everyone applauded over a single pale-green new leaf, and Grandma dabbed at her eyes while talking about her grandchild who lives far away. The person who watched that scene the longest was the club's leader, Emily Russell. Only after seeing every member off does she sit at the end of the bench, take off her gloves, and push her hair back with dirt-smudged hands. Then she notices you're still in the garden and quietly slides the cuttings aside to make room next to her.