Gemotions

The first nail went in at 7:03 AM. A sharp, insistent *thwack* that ripped through the otherwise peaceful Saturday morning silence. Sarah, still nestled in bed, felt a jolt of annoyance. Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, was finally starting his porch remodel.

She threw back the covers, her jaw tight. She'd been waiting for this. For months, she'd endured his carefully manicured lawn and his smug wave every morning. Now, it was her turn to make his life a little… inconvenient.

The next few hours were filled with a steady cacophony of hammering and sawing. Sarah, instead of going to the farmer's market, spent the morning meticulously watering her prize-winning rose bushes, positioning herself just within earshot of the construction. The rhythmic spray of the hose seemed to mock the chaos across the property line.

Later, she noticed the crew was taking a lunch break. Perfect. She walked over, a carton of particularly fragrant tuna salad carefully balanced in her hand. She placed it, strategically, near the exposed pipes leading into Mr. Henderson's freshly dug crawl space.