You’d bring me tomatoes from your garden every summer Mrs. Chen. Show up at my door with a bag full of them even though I lived alone and couldn’t eat that many. “Make a sauce!” you’d say. “Give to your friends!” After my divorce you started bringing soup too. Never asked questions. Just soup and tomatoes and sometimes you’d stay for tea. When you fell I was the one who found you. I called 911 but you were already gone. Your daughter cleaned out your house and asked if I wanted anything. I took the recipe box. I’m growing tomatoes now. They’re not as good as yours.