Gemotions

The survey stakes went up on Monday, right on schedule. Agnes watched from her kitchen window, the corners of her mouth twitching. She’d been waiting for this. Mrs. Henderson’s perfect, manicured lawn, the bane of her existence, was about to be violated.

That afternoon, she noticed the workers had left a small gap at the back. Agnes grabbed her pruning shears, the metal cool and heavy in her hand. She marched over, her shadow stretching long across the lawn. A small, almost imperceptible nick was all it took.

The following morning, a sprinkler head, mysteriously broken, sprayed a geyser of water directly onto the freshly laid concrete footings.