Artemisia

“Oh, no, Missy, please!”

I stop scrubbing the bottom of the dried-up fountain as Alberta makes me stop to look at her. Pushing my hair back, I see her running towards me shocked.

“What are you doing here? Weren’t you arranging the flowers?” she asks, making the omegas working on cleaning the fountain around me hold their breaths.

“Yeah,” I answer with a smile. “But we were done with it, and I figured my help was needed here.”

I also needed to get some ...