When Mark moved in next door, his scowl arrived before his lawnmower—loud, aggressive, and relentless. I welcomed him with backyard honey and muffins. He sneered and shut the door.

I tried again: sunflower cuttings, friendly waves—nothing but grunts. Then one morning, I found my flower bed gone. Roses, marigolds, lavender—all replaced by a slab of fresh cement.

Continues…