Green Fingers

They always met on a Tuesday. At a garden centre on the outskirts of town. It did a good scone and grobags were two for one.

A chance encounter initially. One busy day they’d shared a table, found common ground, arranged to meet again a fortnight on for a surreptitious car park swap. Some seedlings for Madeira cake, baked the evening before.

They met again. Love blossomed and grew. Seasons passed. The Grotto became Barbecue display. Salads replaced the hot specials. Fortnightly became weekly.

Next week though, he was going over to her house. To see her new raised bed.

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