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“Well, this looks plumb delicious,” Arlene Davis gushed over a plate of whole wheat waffles topped with blueberries—the same breakfast Vaughn had fixed her every day for the last seven years.

An Angel, A Rose

The graveyard was quiet, save for the wind that rippled through the dry, overgrown grass and the branches of a dying willow that scraped against the weathered mausoleum. A thick fresco of slate-colored clouds blotted out the moon and stars in an ink-dark sky. The only light came from a flickering candle that threatened to go out with every tentative step.

The Three

Once, before there was time, three seeds fell to the earth. With fertile soil, a pinch of luck, and the passing of the seasons, the seeds sprouted, their branches reaching ever skyward.