Tongue sticking out from one side of her mouth, she carefully made a slit in the daisy stem. Eyes scrunched in concentration, she slipped another daisy through the slit, gently patting it to the end, careful not to crush the delicate petals.

She remembered how Grandma had taught her on a spring day just like this one, not long before she had gone to God. Grandma’s eyes had scrunched up the same way, and anyone watching would have said how much Leila took after her grandmother—in all the best ways.

Leila gently picked another daisy from the clump she had found, resting between her legs as she sat with her legs wide on the damp grass. Her skirt, splayed in front of her, was already tinged green from past daisy hunts.

Humming Greensleeves to herself, she weaved the daisies together. Her grandfather had told her about the king who wrote that song for his one true love. Even though the king had married many times, this was the one he was truly meant to be with. Romance was a big part of Leila’s life; she dreamed of white weddings, royal tiaras, and…

“LEILA!”

The peace was shattered by Sue’s harsh voice. “LEILA WALKER, GET UP THIS INSTANT!”

Leila tried to ignore her. After all, Sue wasn’t her mother—just a nurse! If Leila wanted to make daisy chains, who was Sue to stop her?

But Sue grabbed Leila’s arm, pulling her up, and marched her toward the big house. In defiance, Leila placed the daisy chain haphazardly on her head. She could see the faces watching her from the house, so she pouted and wrenched her arm from Sue’s callous grip.

Shaking herself off, she raised her hand, wiping grass across her nose as she tried to sweep her hair back. With her shoulders squared and nose held high, she marched past Sue, up the garden steps, and into the house.

From a window, Leila’s granddaughter watched her enter the care home, pouting but half-smiling, with flowers in her hair.

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