A Grave at the End of Spring

Summary

My boyfriend suffered from clinical depression.

His medication and expert therapy sessions cost thousands of dollars a month. To cure him, I worked day and night, taking on freelance art commissions and running food deliveries. My friends constantly warned me I was going to work myself into an early grave.

That was until one day, I snatched a delivery order for an ultra-exclusive, gated mansion community.

I respectfully used both hands to hand over a $2,500 premium sushi order to the customer.