Page 53 of Glass Rose
Maybe it’s fucked up to be thinking about love while the world burns around us. Maybe it’s selfish to find happiness in the middle of so much death. But if not now, when? If the virus taught me anything, it’s that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.
Never was.
My mother used to say good things grow in unlikely places. Like her prized tomatoes that flourished in our tiny backyard despite the poor soil. Like her marriage to my father that survived poverty and hardship.
Like whatever this is between Gavin and me, sprouting from the ashes of civilization.
It’s definitely chemistry.
I don’t know if it’s love yet. Can’t be. We only know each other… a day? Depending on whether you count the fourteen months in—longer.
But it could be. Maybe.
The world might be ending, but that doesn’t mean we have to.
TWELVE
SOFIA
Three weeks have passed, marked by cycles of night and day.
The pattern never changes: Gavin wakes me in the darkest hours with hands that know exactly how to make me forget, his mouth hot against my skin, whispering filthy promises that he always keeps. Then morning comes, and I wake to cold sheets and the ghost of his touch.
Just like today.
I stretch across the empty mattress and rub sleep from my eyes. The digital clock reads 10:32 AM. Later than usual—Gavin must have worn me out more thoroughly than I realized.
How long can we keep this up before something breaks?
I pull on a clean tank top and brush my teeth.
Another inventory check. More seedlings to plant. The tomatoes grow quite well. And I have to pack another emergency backpack. We store them on the bottom shelf near our campers, and I could swear there were seven, one for each and one backup, not six.
The rooftop access door creaks as I walk outside, squinting against the sudden flood of sunlight. Thewarehouse’s flat roof has been transformed into a makeshift garden—rows of plastic containers filled with soil and sprouting green things that would’ve made my mother proud.
Dr. Cho—Min-Ji, as she insists I call her now—sits cross-legged beside Marcus, their shoulders touching as he leans in to whisper something that makes her cover her mouth to stifle a laugh. Her usually severe bob is pulled back with a bandana, softening her features.
“Morning,” I call out.
Marcus jumps like he’s been caught stealing, but Dr. Cho merely straightens her posture.
“You mean afternoon.” She checks her watch. “Almost eleven.”
I drop next to Min-Ji. “And you guys still sneak around.”
She snorts, adjusting her glasses with soil-stained fingers. “Alex is still oblivious to it.”
“Alex is oblivious to everything that doesn’t involve his own reflection,” Marcus says.
“Fair point.” I pluck a leaf from the nearest tomato plant, rubbing it between my fingers to release its earthy scent. “What’s today’s project?”
She gestures to the rows of seedlings. “Trying to salvage what we can. Some of these aren’t getting enough sun.”
“Unlike you.” I poke her arm. “You’re actually getting tan.”
“Shut up.” She smiles, a real one that reaches her eyes. Three weeks ago, I wouldn’t have believed her face could make that shape. “Marcus found seeds for Korean perilla. My grandmother used to grow it.”
“She’s been telling me about making kimchi.” His eyes never leave her face.
