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Thursday, May 29, 2014

Digging His Grave

My beloved caught me in the act of shoving the sharp end of a shovel into the ground. He stammered an unintelligible protest as I pushed on the handle to pry the roots of a spent shrub from the ground.

Finding his voice, he spurted, "Don't do that!"

"Why?" I answered, stepping on the long arm of my garden implement. Popping sounds rose from the ground.

"Because I like gardenias," he said in defense of my victims.

"These gardenias look awful. They're showing their age and then some. You can't like these," I told him and continued with my task.

"I can," he rebuked. He justified his stance by adding, "I like you."

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