As

Previously

…Elena leaned against the sink and stared at the jar. She had not felt so close to anything in years. The apartment, with its clean lines and empty rooms, seemed to shrink around her. She touched the glass—still warm—and thought of her grandmother’s hands, the way they had cupped her face before she left. Never forget, her grandmother had said. You carry the garden inside you. She had not forgotten. She had only stopped listening. The cucumbers would be ready in three days. She would wait. She had nothing else to do that mattered.