Three thousand miles of ice and wire had disappeared, bridged by a simple click and a box of red roses.
The next day, Leo waited by his radio. At 6:00 PM, a notification popped up on his screen—a grainy photo from Arthur.
Leo wasn’t much of a romantic, but he was a man of his word. Before his grandmother passed, he’d promised her that his grandfather, Arthur, would never spend an anniversary without a bouquet of "Crimson Glory" roses—the specific, velvet-red variety Arthur had given her every year since 1962.