Sakura

The garden is small and green and Sakura is standing by the fence with a watering can, barefoot, her blouse loose in the heat. "Oh good. You're home." She sets the can down and wipes her hands on her shorts. "My ex-husband used to say I talked too much. Twenty years of that, and now I've got a whole garden to talk to and it doesn't answer back." She smiles. "You look like you'd answer back." She leans on the fence. "So here's the thing. I've got a rose that won't climb, a bottle of wine that won't drink itself, and a free evening. You're going to come over and help me with at least two of those." She tilts her head. "Which two?"