Waiting in the breeze

A moment later, she heard slow footsteps inside and the sound of a lock turning. The front door creaked open, and there stood Mr. Hensley in a cozy cardigan and house slippers, his eyes squinting at the morning sun. He looked at Samantha, then down at the jar, and raised one eyebrow in surprise. “Good morning,” he said slowly, curiosity already shining in his eyes.
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