Plot, by Pamela Sinicrope

I saw her through the evergreen leaves. She had a margarita in one hand and a shovel in the other. Two toddler-aged kids were busy pulling the Rottweiler’s tail and eating blueberries from a planter. She saw me and I didn’t divert my gaze. The sound of helicopter blades cut through our standoff, rattled the top of the Elm along the property line, scattering a few grackles from it’s dying branches. I knew what she was thinking. Her husband was in the garden building a path to nowhere, planting day lilies. I wondered where she would finally dig the hole.