“The library has better quotes.”
She stepped inside without waiting to be invited and inspected the living room.
“You need plants,” she declared.
“I need a demolition crew.”
“Plants first. Rage later.”
So I bought plants.
Then paint.
Then new locks.
Then I turned the bedroom where it happened into an office with bright walls, heavy bookshelves, and a window seat. I placed no bed in it. No mirror. No trace of that night except one thing: inside the desk drawer, I kept a copy of Linda’s notebook page with my name on it.
Pride.
Underlined twice.
Whenever I doubted myself, I opened the drawer and remembered that my enemy had correctly identified my armor.
She had simply mistaken armor for weakness.
The shocking ending came in spring, on a morning so beautiful it felt staged.
Sarah called while I was pruning a basil plant Mrs. Alvarez insisted was “emotionally sensitive.”
