whiplash tender_square her two weeks absence spurred the adolescence of hostas and daylilies, now towering and shapely in the gardens. even the anemic maple was emblazoned with the bright beginnings of lemonade leaves. she didn’t recognize what she had left, robbed of a progressive unfolding: an explosion of emerald hands reached in feverish rapture across the avenue; the facets of fence diamonds obscured by shoots of skinny shrubs; and crowded, overnight cities of knee-high dandelion dust awaiting wish. would this be what it was like for him, veil torn by rapidly changing circumstances, revealing what was always there and went unnoticed? she feared her resolution made her translucent, each vein and venule bearing the map of her deception held to sun. the new victorian birdhouse a neighbour hung from a tumored oak between their properties offended her; she sneered at the ornate octagonal walls, the filagree archways, the prim posts. it was a beautiful prison; she wanted to break it with a baseball bat. 220519 what's it to you? who go blather from