She shuffled to the window and looked down. The geranium on the sill had been chipped last spring; she had moved it the week before. The key under the pot—a childhood talisman lost for years—had been returned to her by a cousin at a funeral. She was sure of it. But the name on the tin was a name she’d only seen in a photo of a woman who had visited once and left so quickly Mara barely remembered the shape of her laugh.
| Model | RAM Usage | Speed | Accuracy | Recommended For | | :--- | : whisper gui windows
