The Gatherer of Sorrows
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“Pick up and go,” the security detail says. The Detail. That’s what she calls the man, inwardly. To his face she calls him by his first name. “Hello Jake,” she says, “How are you today?” while she finishes grinding petunia flowers in a mortar and then splashes some vodka into the grounds. The petunias, she’s been growing on windowsills in coffee cans and in hemp baskets lined with trash bags. The vodka, she’s brought from home in a stainless steel hip flask.