grass. He can see her looking at it closely and counting the petals.

Steve: Am I dead? Is this it?

He watches as she replants the daisy, she’d do this often. As if she could reattach it to the earth and it would be alive again. But this time he watches as it not only takes root but other daisies sprout up out of the ground and grow around it, then spread out and away from that one, multiplying and flowing across the grass.

They spread around him and he looks down as they begin to crawl up along his legs. But not in an aggressive way, only as though he was part of the landscape and they were simply growing where they could. He looks up and finds her right in front of him, inches away, and he reacts by pulling