Marie watched him from the kitchen window, worry creasing her brow. She reminded him they had other projects—fixing the gutter, repainting the hallway—but Walter shook his head. The mound had become a promise of truth he could no longer postpone.
That morning, Marie stepped outside and quietly asked him to be careful. “What if it’s something dangerous?” she murmured. “Old pipes, chemicals buried decades ago…what if they’re reacting. Who knows what people used to dump in their yards?” Her voice carried a tremor she tried to disguise.