She watched him from her back door, the one that leads out to her little brick patio. It wasn’t the first time she had seem him. Several times, who knew how many? But it was always the same scenario. He’d open his back door, and stick out his left arm, hand palm up. He was her neighbor and his apartment was on the ground floor, too, in the building directly across from hers. She saw his hand go up and fingers splay out. Then, after his little deed of goodwill, he’d disappear back inside, always the same. She smiled to herself as she thought about the silent war she and her neighbor were waging. He was winning and didn’t even know it. She went out onto her patio and picked up the latest casualties. No hope for them. None. She dumped them into the trash container and went inside, pondering her next move. Pack up and leave? Silly. She had only lived in the place two months, since the beginning of spring. She liked it here. Her apartment was perfect– old-fashioned rooms with high ceilings, and a pretty , wooded divide between the two ancient buildings. Confront her neighbor? No, he was within his rights. Give up? Throw in the towel? Maybe. But not yet. Surely there could be a compromise.
A week later she went out to her patio and inspected. The new pansies she had planted in the clay flowerpot had been uprooted and lay defeated on top of the soil. She removed the pansies and set them aside. Sighing, she began digging in the rich brown soil. Soon she had removed them all. There were six this time. Last time there were eight. The time before that there had been five. She held them in her hand as she watched the door open across the way. The man, sticking out his arm, palm up, fingers splayed out, Same scene. She watched the peanuts fly over his patio and onto the ground, and then the little squirrels, cute really, collected them and scurried off. Not to bury them in her pot, however. Not again. She was taking her gardening inside.
