My Neighbor Poured Cement over My Flower
When Mark moved in next door, his scowl arrived before his lawnmower—and that thing ran like it had been trained in the military. Precision. Volume. Fury. I introduced myself with honey from my backyard hives and a basket of warm muffins. He took one look, sneered, and closed the door. I tried again—sunflower cuttings, a…
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