She wanted to do something simple—a task that had an instant, visible reward, that had no gray areas, no emotional turmoil. At least, not for her. If weeds had feelings, they might take a different view of her plunging her gardening tool into the ground around them and ripping them out, roots and all. But they weren’t voicing opinions or arguing with her, so she dug and ripped with homicidal cheer.
