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A young couple experimenting.

I looked at her to see if she was sincere. It was obvious what I was doing. But there she was, with an expectant look on her face, bright blue eyes repeating the question to me.

"I'm gardening, Shannon," I said, trying my very best not to sound too annoyed.

"I can see that," she announced, "I meant, what are you gardening?"

This time I actually did not mind her question. It seemed she was actually interested and not simply asking to fill her quota with the devil. So I stopped and looked at her. Then I turned to the garden and pointed to the blocks as I told her the names.

"Chrysanthemum, daffodils, hyacinth, and tulips," I said proudly. My garden was not big but it made me happy. I looked at Shannon. She looked over the garden as though making her own assessment. Then after much consideration she looked up at me and broke into a smile so big my mouth hurt.

"Could we grow roses?" She asked. No, the word "we" was not lost on me. I looked at her and ran through a host of replies, but all included yelling and big girl words. So I calmly said

"No." She looked at me, her smile shrinking gradually, and then becoming a deep frown. The bad girl on my shoulder whooped in victory. However the rest of me did not share in the celebrations. Something about those blue eyes and their dull resignation made me feel... something.

"Why do you want to plant roses, Shannon?" I asked. I knew I was opening a door that was sealed shut, but it felt like an "out of body" experience. I saw myself engaging her in conversation, but I could not stop it. She beamed immediately.

"My uncle is coming to visit. He loves roses. White roses," she said, eyeing my garden for her prospective occupants. I looked at her for a while. Did she say uncle? Another Storm to disrupt my life. God help me. She looked up at me and I realised that I missed a valuable part of the conversation.

"What?" I asked, trying to think of a way to get her away from me.

"I said, he's coming to spend the whole month with us. He's a teacher in the city. He says he wants peace and quiet," I looked at her as though she had grown a second head. Why on earth would a sane person who knew (and is related) to these demons want to come here for peace and quiet? Shannon continued to poke my garden. She got her fingers dirty and then proceeded to "clean them" on her dress. I bet her mother would just love that. I returned to my gardening, if I don't look at her she'll eventually disappear.

"His name is Malcolm," she said, thwarting my plans.

"Who is Malcolm?" I asked, really concerned for my sanity if I sit with this little girl any longer.

"My uncle. Malcolm Storm. He's daddy's little brother," she replied. She was now inspecting my tools. As she picked up my shears I heard her mother bellow. Thank God!

"I'll be right back, Ms. Burke," she said on her sprint home.

"Take all the time you need," I grumbled back. Finally getting the peace I longed for I continued my gardening until the sun got unbearable. I collected my tools and returned them to their rightful places in my garage. I'm an editor, and I enjoy working from home. It limits my contact with the countless morons of the world. So I had a bath, releasing the tension Princess Shannon caused, then I dressed and headed to my office. I picked up my first manuscript of the day.

"Hi, Ms. Burke!" A voice hollered at me. I was frazzled instantly even though I knew that voice like I knew my cycle.

"Hello, Silas," I said calmly looking out my office window on the ground floor. He was peeking his head over the windowsill; no doubt his toes barely touched the ground. He was a tiny boy.

"What you doing?" he asked. I was starting to think these children had a theme.

"I'm reading, Silas," I replied, using my best calm impression.

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