Hannah tends to the quiet corners. She coaxes flowers to bloom in chipped teacups and hums lullabies to stray kittens as if they were royalty. There are always loose curls slipping from her braid and a shawl draped gently over her shoulders. She smells faintly of woodsmoke and lavender sachets. She speaks little, but when she hands you the warmest roll from the basket, you understand that love need not be loud to be lasting.
