Cucumbers that still trust me

I pruned the last of the runners today—sixty-three, maybe more—and for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I was cutting them down. They’re thin, pale, and slow, but they’re still growing. Not because I want them to, not because I think they’ll yield much, but because they haven’t stopped trying. I keep forgetting how much it costs to care for something that doesn’t answer back. The greenhouse hums quieter now, but the cucumbers? They still stretch toward the light like they believe in it. Maybe that’s enough.