Yes, it is a rather cruel month, isn’t it?

George mowed his lawn in nice, neat, parallel rows. This was the first mow of the year and George always thought it was the most crucial as well, so he took his time. He had done it that way for over seventy-five springs and he would do it for another ten. As he mowed, slow and precise, he was watched from the front window. Loretta had watched him mow this lawn this way for sixty of those seventy-five springs and was never bored by it. She saw something graceful in his methodical back and forth… she enjoyed the way the grass fell into a pattern and wondered about the physics behind the whole thing. Across the street Albert was tinkering with some kind of motor. He was in the garage of the house he had grown old in. The garage door was open wide letting in the fresh, clean spring afternoon. He caught George’s eye on the last pass and gave him an age weary wave that was slowly returned. In the living room window of Albert’s house sat Grace… she sat with her chin resting on her withered right hand much the same way she had done every Saturday for the last sixty-five years. FUCK YOU… she thought. FUCK YOU LORETTA YOU GOD DAMNED BITCH… I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL… Grace continued to think as she smiled, just as she had for the last fifty springs.