Wet grass splattered onto Theo’s exposed legs as he shook his soiled sneakers. The slimy texture disgusted him, but his legs were cooled by the grass’s moist touch. He leaned onto the handles of his lawn mower and surveyed the yard. It looked good, he thought, the trimmed rows almost perfectly aligned, just like his dad had taught him. He was only halfway finished, but he already felt the pride of a job well done.
A crack of thunder interrupted his moment of glory, reminding him that he was being rained on. Theo revved up the mower and started a new row, pleased that he had attached the receptacle bag at the last minute. “Pros always prepare for the worst,” his dad said. Theo agreed. Raking and bagging wet grass was certainly the worst.
He marched across the yard, pushing the mower and w
