I couldn’t stop laughing. It was a small victory, but it felt good.
That night, I decided I wasn’t done. I baked a fresh batch of cupcakes, put them in a bright pink pastry box, and labeled it “Special Treats Just For You” before placing it on my porch. I wasn’t sure if she’d take the bait again after the barking fiasco, but my curiosity won out.
The following afternoon, I came home from the grocery store and noticed the pink box was gone. I felt a rush of adrenaline, but I also wondered: what if this got out of hand?
I tried to let it go, but the next evening, I heard knocking at my door. When I opened it, there stood Darlene, clutching the empty pink box. She looked furious, cheeks red, eyes like daggers.
“Are you trying to poison me?” she hissed. “I’ve been throwing up all day!”
I blinked. “What? The cupcakes were perfectly fine. Maybe you shouldn’t eat stolen food.”
Her eyes darted away, and for a split second, I saw fear behind her anger. She shoved the box into my hands and stormed off.
I felt a pang of guilt. Had I gone too far?
The next day, I went to the community garden we both volunteered at. I tried to focus on planting marigolds, but Darlene was there too, avoiding my gaze like I had the plague.
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