drying in the autumn sun. The fence itself had been
chain-sawed and sledgehammered; jagged pieces of
premium oak and twisted iron were piled
unceremoniously in a dumpster that sat directly on
our lawn.
Standing amidst the ruins was a bright yellow
mini-bulldozer, its metal tracks caked in the rich soil
of our ruined garden. And there, standing on her
pristine driveway with a steaming mug of tea in her
hand, was Mrs. Beatrice Graves. She was wearing a
thick cardigan and a smile of supreme, untouchable
satisfaction. She looked over the wreckage of our
fifteen years of hard work as if she had just
successfully redecorated a living room.
Eleanor fell to her knees beside the crushed
roses, tears streaming down her face as she tried
desperately to scoop the soil back over the exposed
roots. A blinding, deafening rage filled my ears. I felt
my hands ball into fists so tight my knuckles turned
white. I marched straight toward Mrs. Graves, my
voice shaking with a fury I had never known before.
'What in God's name have you done?!' I roared
across the destroyed landscape.
Mrs. Graves didn't even flinch at my yelling.
She took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, her eyes
crinkling in arrogant amusement. 'I am merely
reclaiming what is rightfully mine,' she stated, her
voice dripping with condescension. 'That
dilapidated fence was an eyesore, and it was
illegally constructed on my property. Furthermore, I
need the space to expand my driveway. I am having
contractors arrive tomorrow to pour the concrete.'
I stared at her, completely dumbfounded by the
sheer scale of her delusion. 'Are you out of your
mind?' I shouted. 'That fence has been there for fifty
years! You just destroyed thousands of dollars worth
of landscaping and private property! I am calling
the police right now, and you are going to pay for
every single penny of this damage!' I reached into