The echo.

Lily

As I was watering the garden one tranquil morning, the cool mist from the hose enveloping the air around me, I noticed Mrs. Donovan's presence out of the corner of my eye. She stood there quietly, her gaze fixed on me as I tended to the plants. There was something about the way she observed me that stirred a curiosity within me, a silent intensity that seemed to speak volumes without her uttering a single word.

Despite the gentle hum of nature surrounding us, her silence created a palpable tension in the air. I couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were swirling in her mind as she watched me, her expression unreadable yet somehow intriguing. Was it curiosity, admiration, or perhaps something else entirely?

Undeterred by her silent scrutiny, I continued with my task, methodically watering each plant with care and precision. The rhythmic sound of water cascading onto the soil provided a soothing backdrop to the otherwise stillness of the morning.

Minutes passed, and still, Mrs. Do