[It's pretty - almost pretty enough to offset her annoyance at having her excellent question dodged. The opportunity to see her own home, or at least the land around it, is both tempting and terrifying. For the most part, she doesn't want to go home.]
[But she opens the door anyway, to a field, wind-swept and weathered. There are no flowers, but there are the beginnings of them. It'd be late March, early April maybe.]
spam
[But she opens the door anyway, to a field, wind-swept and weathered. There are no flowers, but there are the beginnings of them. It'd be late March, early April maybe.]
[She steps inside without another word.]