Damir placed every pot in a marked position. His plan for the shared rooftop garden had numbers, a watering schedule, and arrows for walking routes. The next morning, he found a yellow bucket of basil among the orderly rows. It belonged to no marking. A note hung from the handle: "Temporarily here. Irma, third floor." Temporarily lasted seven days, long enough for the scent to begin delighting him while the disorder annoyed him.
Irma made costumes for small productions and lived among boxes of fabric. Damir was a technical draftsman who enjoyed empty surfaces. At the residents' meeting, they argued about the bucket for nearly ten minutes. She asked whether a plant could grow without an application form. He explained that the bucket blocked the drain when the wind shifted it. It was a good reason, so Irma fell silent and moved it, surprising them both.
The next morning, she found a sturdy wooden stand beneath the bucket. Damir had made it from leftover shelving. She left him basil leaves in a paper bag. They began exchanging small gifts requiring no formal thanks: a tomato tie, fabric for shade, the first strawberry a bird had missed. Their conversations grew longer, and the garden plan acquired several handwritten changes.
A storm caught them on the roof while they were collecting chairs. The wind lifted Irma's bucket, and Damir ran so abruptly that he slipped. He didn't fall, but he was frightened. Irma pulled him away from the edge and said the plants could wait. They sheltered in the enclosed stairwell, soaked through. Damir admitted that disorder frightened him because he never knew when something might go wrong. Irma said order frightened her only when someone used it to measure her worth.
After the storm, they repaired the garden without arguing. Damir didn't count broken pots aloud. Irma checked the drains herself and wrote down what needed securing. When they finished, she invited him to dinner, warning that she might need to clear fabric off the table first. He accepted on condition that he could bring bread. She laughed so hard at this modest request that she nearly dropped the bucket again.
Her apartment smelled of roasted tomatoes. Damir folded a piece of fabric and moved it only after asking where he could put it. Irma placed the plates safely away from the table's edge. They kissed while the pasta water was still waiting to boil. Later, the basil remained in its yellow bucket, on a safe stand that fitted none of the original drawings.