A mother worries the ages-old worry of mothers with a teenaged daughter. Her heart thumps to comfort the sorrow that steals over her mind. She fingers the test strip she wishes she never had found.

A daughter worries the ages-old worry of teenaged girls who love teenaged boys. There is nothing she wants less to believe than the positive double blue lines.

The mother listens for the opening door, wonders what she will say. The daughter stands on the top step and breathes, just breathes her fear away.

In her hand is a flower, an offering, just like she used to give her mother when she was little. On the other side of the door, the mother picks up a rose and hopes it will open the way.