“Ira? IRA?”

“WHAT, Maude?” Ira leaned out of the bathroom, toothbrush still hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

“Ira, I think you’d better come look at this!” Maude yelled back, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her feet. Ira walked over, scratching his side as he moved, then tugging his white undershirt back down again.

She liked the yellow peeps, mostly, because yellow didn't seem as garish a color to put in your body as magenta or electric blue. Violet had cut a slit in the thin plastic wrapping around their box and let them sit on the counter for a few weeks. She stared at them now, willing herself to wait. They were her Easter morning tradition, having just one before church, after her usual breakfast of eggs and toast. Violet couldn't stand them fresh, all spongy and odd textured, but once they had sat open, aged a bit, their texture became like nougat and that, that she loved.

She was exhausted. Madeline had just gotten off a 12 hour shift, and she had another one starting at 8 am the next day, and all she wanted to do was kick off her shoes, grab some popcorn, and veg on the couch and watch a movie. Instead, she started chopping tomatoes for a salad. Her parents were coming for dinner tonight, staying the night on the way to her mother’s work conference another days drive further on.

"Everybody has a story. What's yours?" Paul shook himself out of his reverie and looked at the young woman in the chair next to his. She had tubes running to one of her arms, and a bright yellow blanket across her lap. She smiled at him, waiting.

Gertie sat beside the window and gazed out at the crocuses pushing up through the snow. Every year she was grateful she had a front window, that she could watch her flowers. Her granddaughter Kate used to bring her flowers every Tuesday, on her walk home from school, but this year Kate was in high school, across town, and her visits had been less frequent. Still, Kate had planted the crocuses for her, a few years back, without Mr. Wallace's, the manager of the home, knowledge. He probably wouldn't have minded, but she loved that Kate was going to do it no matter what, because she knew how much Gertie missed her crocuses from home.

She wandered down to the kitchen in her white fluffy slippers that he had given her ages ago. She couldn't stand them, not really, but she tolerated them for him. There was a cup of coffee there waiting for her, with a small scrap of paper just slightly underneath.

Mona picked at the slate grey nail polish flaking off of her fingernails. She'd chosen the color on a particularly sunny day when the ground was covered in feet of snow, and she'd convinced herself that it was a chic seasonal choice.