Greenhouse

She found her brother in the greenhouse.

“What are you doing out here?”

He lay on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“I like it out here.”

She glanced around. “What’s to like?”

“I like plants. You know that.”

“There are no plants.”

This was true. They had all been cleared out several weeks ago.

“No,” he admitted. “But if you look straight up, sometimes you think you can almost see them out of the corner of your eye.”

She just stood there, staring down at him.

“You should try it,” he said.

“No, thanks.”

“You should.”

“You should come inside.”

He didn’t move. “I am inside.”

“Inside the house.”

“Why?”

“People have been asking where you are.”

“So?”

“You should come say hi.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

She stood for a moment, then sighed and unlatched the door. “Fine. Stay here with your imaginary plants.”

The door banged closed.

“They’re not imaginary,” he said to the ceiling. “They’re just not here anymore.”

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