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June 2, 2010
Anthony brought down the pointed garden tool, uprooting more grass. He thought someone was standing in his peripheral vision, but it was only the blue power box in the backyard. No one is ever in that area of the yard anymore, now that Anthony's father insists on having the lawn mowed professionally. The same pine branch that used to obstruct Anthony's lawnmower ten years ago is still there, beckoning him into the past like a finger from some skeleton. Meanwhile, eighteen-year-old Bruce mows the lawn next door while Anthony watches a rollie pollie wiggle within his latest excavation.