her.
Audrey barely knew me.
She shrugged. “I guess when you have enough free time.”
There was something in the way she said it that bothered me.
Not the insult itself.
The satisfaction behind it.
Audrey barely knew me. So why did irritating me seem to make her so happy?
The next weekend was worse.
The next weekend was worse.
By Sunday morning, another set of tire tracks ran across my lawn, and three stems near the edge of the flower bed had been snapped almost to the soil.
I found Audrey outside carrying empty bottles toward her recycling bin.
“Audrey, we need to talk.”
“Your guests drove over my lawn again.”
She sighed before I even finished.
“If this is about the cars again—”
“It is. Your guests drove over my lawn again.”
She glanced toward the tracks. “They’re only here for a few hours. It’s not hurting anyone.”
