I’m not equivocating because, obviously. She was a gardener, though, right? She won that flower thing at the community center back in ’87 and then again in ’93? Now isn’t the time, but there are almost certainly legions more, dead from the pitiless blade of your grandmother’s trowel. I know, I know, I know I shouldn’t bring it up here.

“So,” he says, moping his nostril rims with a tissue, “what’s your interest in the frog?”