Everyone in the office knew what the flowers on Emily’s desk meant. It was the anniversary. Ten years earlier, Emily and Sarah had joined the company on the same rainy Monday. They became inseparable almost immediately, sharing lunches, deadlines and a mutual dislike of the printer on the third floor. Then Sarah became ill. For months, Emily placed fresh flowers on Sarah’s desk whenever she was too weak to come in. After Sarah died, the company removed the desk but Emily continued buying the flowers. Every year, on the anniversary of Sarah’s death, the bouquet grew larger. Nobody mentioned it. This year, Emily arrived to find flowers covering not only her desk but the entire office. There were daisies on the windowsills, roses in the meeting rooms and sunflowers beside the printer. A card waited on her keyboard. You remembered her for us. Today, we remember her with you. Emily sat down and cried. At lunchtime, her colleagues revealed the second part of the surprise. They had raised enough money to fund a hospital room in Sarah’s name. The room would include a small kitchen where families could cook together during long treatments. Emily visited when it opened. A nurse showed her the cupboards and explained that the first family arriving that afternoon had requested pasta for dinner. “What sauce?” Emily asked. The nurse checked her list. Of all the pasta sauces she could have been asked to make, pesto was the easiest.