The room was no larger than a village greenhouse, yet it felt like another season entirely. Rows of lettuce stretched beneath clear panels overhead, their crisp leaves glowing with impossible shades of green. Trays of spinach rested beneath them. Pots of parsley, chives and dill filled a shelf along one wall. Moisture gathered softly upon the glass while small fans whispered overhead.
She forgot to speak.
The scent reached her first.
Fresh soil.
Growing leaves.
The faint sweetness of damp earth.
It reminded her so completely of home that she closed her eyes for a brief moment.
When she opened them again, Henrik was smiling.
"I've seen that expression before."
"You have?"
"Everyone who misses green things wears it."
She walked slowly between the rows, careful not to brush against the leaves.
"I never imagined..."
"Most people don't."
He knelt beside one of the beds.
"We grow what we can."
Zeulla crouched nearby.
One lettuce had begun pressing against another.
Without thinking, she loosened the soil gently around the smaller plant, giving its roots a little room.
Henrik watched in silence.
"You garden."
"My grandmother did."
"And you learned."
"I mostly watched."
"Watching is how people learn."
She smiled.
"My grandmother used to say plants can tell when someone is impatient."
Henrik chuckled.
"I believe she's right."
Zeulla pinched away two yellowing leaves and laid them carefully in a small compost container.
"They're taking energy from the healthy ones."
Henrik looked at her with mild surprise.
"You noticed that quickly."
"My parents owned a little pop-up restaurant."
She brushed a little soil from her fingertips.
"My grandmother supplied most of the vegetables."
"So you've always been around food."
"I suppose I have."
Henrik rested his hands on his knees.
"You're welcome here whenever your work allows."
She looked up.
"You don't mind?"
"I've learned something after living here."
"What is that?"
He glanced around the little greenhouse.
"Anything that grows survives because somebody cared enough not to neglect it."
Zeulla looked once more at the rows of lettuce.
Outside, snow covered almost everything she could see.
Inside, life quietly insisted on being green.
She thought it might become her favorite room in the station.
Thanks for reading. Image was generated by chatGPT.
