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Chapter Forty Eight: Big Jack
BIG JACK

At the flora shop, Big Jack bought a wide bouquet of chrysanthemums—they were Elle's favourite; all things flora were. The inside of the shop smelt like plants and crumbly earth and Big Jack had never felt closer to his wife than in a place that felt like this.

He was not leaving the city for good, he told himself. He would probably die here, he told himself, never too far from the bright lights that were New York. To leave this stretch of land would be, for him, to cease to exist. And when he went to the flora shop for a bouquet of chrysanthemums, he assured himself that they were not a parting gift.

Goodbyes did not always have to be creatures of permanence.

Few shops were open during periods of festivity, especially at this time of the year. Those that were were often in a hurry to close for the day. Most people had families and wanted to be with them when the New Year rolled in. Must be nice, thought Big Jack. Must be nice to have a family, whole, waiting for you to retur
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