She wasn't supposed to fall for it.She was just inspecting.
You know… a quick look, polite smile, the usual mental math of rent versus regret.
Then she opened the front gate.And fell straight through it.
Not down, through.Into green.Sunlight, vines, and a slice of Hawthorn that felt too private to be legal.
North sun warming the deck, rosemary humming, lettuce practically applauding.
Now mornings begin quietly.Pilates under the gums, birdsong on repeat… no Spotify subscription required.
