Gemotions

The audacity of it! Mildred, with her perfect petunias and gossiping smile, knocking on the door. "Just a little strip," she’d chirped, "for some lovely herbs." The inside of my fist clenched. Lovely herbs, indeed.

I agreed, of course, feigning a generosity that curdled inside me. I pointed to the sunniest patch, right beside her prize-winning rose bushes. "Right there," I said, my voice sweet as poison, "gets plenty of light."

The next morning, I was up before dawn, silently dragging the hose. The irrigation system, usually reserved for my own lawn, had a slight modification. A little extra boost of fertilizer, just for her patch. The kind that burned the roots.