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The landlord knew that his tenant couldn't afford to pay the new rent. He was planning on it, in fact. His nephew's wife was pregnant, and they were looking for a bigger house for their growing family. The landlord was all too happy to help.

He was sick of his tenant anyway, an old woman who had lived in the property since the landlord before him had bought it. Her kids had grown up in the house, denting the walls and scratching the paint. Her garden had grown and shrunk through the seasons, blooming colorful  in the spring. The house had seen renovations and pets, kids and grandkids.

The landlord knew it was all leading up to this moment. He would raise her rent so high she couldn't even dream of paying it, just in time for his nephew's baby to be born. An old home for a new family, the ghosts of the former tenants living in the paint and carpeting.

It really was such unfortunate timing for the landlord's passing. The old woman brought orange lilies from her garden to his funeral, and offered to teach his nephew’s newborn son how to grow flowers when he was older.