“They’re my mom's favorite, the purple wildflowers,” he gave me a gentle smile, cocking his head the smallest bit. I nodded, because I knew. She always would randomly have plastic cups of those flowers on the kitchen counter when we were younger. Full and stuffed in there from all the ones Sebastian kept picking up for her all the time. Especially after his grandfather passed away when we were seven years old, and the stupid hamster that always clawed my thighs when we were ten. It always just seemed like a sign of loss to me, even though I liked to ignore it ever since I saw them on Ms. Carter’s desk a week ago.