At midnight, they’re charming. By two, they’re a test of character; each clang is a drill to your eardrum that unearths expletives you didn’t know you had. The breeze fiddles, the chimes nag, and fresh patience is tested one clink at a time as you imagine swiping them into a black hole. You plan a DIY involving a string, a firm knot, and possibly a very tall tree on the other side of town. As dawn arrives and it almost sounds pretty again, you wonder if anyone would notice if the chimes mysteriously disappeared.
Neighbours
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Wind Chimes at 2am
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Neighbours’ Hedge Wars
It began with a courteous trim. Years ago, during a long summer, both families had laughed together over a shared lemonade beneath the very hedge that now marks their battleground. Then came the tape measure, mutters, and sharp remarks about “property lines.” Now, gardening feels like a skirmish. The hedge has withstood barbed insults, smiles edged by tension, and one set of shears wielded like a sabre. This feud is driven by more than perceptions of neatness or ownership; the hedge discreetly divides private worlds, sheltering old grudges—a silent monument to boundaries built and breaches remembered.