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She could hear crow cawing as they flew in the morning sun over the rushing thrum of the traffic below and hum of the kids watching tv inside.  She listened closer. Was there anything else there? No.

But there were other things to notice.  The way the sun hit the leaves of the trees and wound its way through the morning shadows.  The colour of the lemons, not quite ripe, stuck somewhere between green and yellow. The stones, she had placed with such care, one by one, into a stack that would frame the garden.