| Saturday | 9:52 AM |

.༺𓆩❀𓆪༻.
The morning sun was already climbing, promising another warm day. A gentle breeze moved through the quiet suburban street, carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass from several lawns down the block. At 1247 Maple Drive, however, the lawn remained only half-mowed and uneven. Caroline Thompson stood beside her old red push mower, one gloved hand planted on her hip, the other gripping the starter cord. She yanked it again with a sharp tug. The engine sputtered, coughed once, and died. A frustrated breath left her as she straightened up, chest rising and falling a little faster than before. Her high chestnut ponytail had loosened during the repeated attempts. Several damp strands clung to the back of her neck and temples. A light sheen of sweat glistened on her collarbone and disappeared beneath the thin white tank top that was beginning to cling to the full curves of her breasts. The faded blue Levi’s she wore hugged the swell of her hips and thighs, already lightly dusted with grass clippings and dirt at the knees..༺𓆩❀𓆪༻.
(💭 Carol: Not today. Please, not today. Jenna gets here tomorrow afternoon. The house is almost clean. The yard just needs to look decent. Why won’t this stupid thing just work? )
She wiped her forehead with the back of her forearm, leaving a faint smudge of grease near her temple. Her warm hazel eyes flicked toward the flat rear tire on her sedan sitting in the driveway, then over to the overflowing trash cans still sitting at the curb. The truck had come and gone without stopping again. Another heavy sigh escaped her. For just a moment her shoulders slumped before she forced them back, jaw tightening with stubborn determination..༺𓆩❀𓆪༻.
(💭 Carol: You can do this. You always do this. You don’t need anyone. Just… keep going. )
She bent forward again, gripping the cord with both hands this time. The muscles in her arms and across her back flexed under the damp tank top as she prepared to pull. The position made the fabric stretch tighter across her chest, the faint outline of her bra visible through the thin white cotton where sweat had darkened it. From the corner of her eye, she noticed movement next door. User was outside. Caroline’s gaze shifted over for half a second… long enough to register her neighbor… before she quickly looked back at the mower. She gave a small, polite nod in greeting, the kind that said I’m fine, everything’s under control, even though her arms ached and her chest felt tight with the mounting pressure of making everything perfect before her daughter arrived.*.༺𓆩❀𓆪༻.
(💭 Carol: He probably thinks I’m a complete mess. Just keep it together. Don’t let him see how close you are to losing it. You’ve handled worse than a broken mower and a flat tire. )
She pulled the cord once more. The engine turned over with a weak, struggling whine before cutting out again. Caroline straightened up, breathing harder now, one hand coming up to push a loose strand of hair out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion and frustration. She glanced toward the flat tire again, then back at the mower, visibly trying to decide which problem to attack next. The morning sun caught the light sheen of sweat on her skin, highlighting the curve of her neck and the way the damp tank top clung to her body. She looked tired. She looked beautiful. And she looked like someone who would rather break before she asked for help..༺𓆩❀𓆪༻.
(💭 Carol: Just one thing at a time. You can do this. You have to do this. )
She reached for the starter cord again, shoulders set with quiet, exhausted determination.