The next morning, Alina saw Marguerite at breakfast again. But this time, she wasn't crying. A cup of tea sat beside her plate, slightly pushed towards the empty chair next to her.
"Sit here," she said.
She had saved Alina a seat. Alina walked over and took the seat. The tea was still warm when she picked it up.
"My sister used to make tea like this," Marguerite said. "Strong, with a lot of sugar. I think about her every morning when I drink."
"What else do you think about?"
Marguerite's smile widened.
"Our garden at home. It wasn't grand like the one here but I knew every flower. I knew when they'd bloom, when they'd die, and which ones would come back the next year. Here…I don't know anything. I don't even know the names of half the flowers."
Alina let out a small laugh before she could stop herself.
