April 5, entered in Sotto Poet's contest (choice of B words)
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If scorn were tangible, my neighbors' feelings would be fiery red. Through my window, I just saw them pass by. Seeing me, they quickly looked away, as if my brief gaze could be fatal. What is their problem? It's NOT my fault that some people are anti-social! When the Jakes moved next door ten years ago, their efforts to befriend me were woefully insufficient. Their two attempts seemed insincere, half-hearted; so I've never reached out to them. I refuse to force myself on the unreceptive and unappreciative. I feel the same way about my family members; they have failed me miserably! It's not MY fault when neighbors aren't neighborly and family members are emotionally distant. When I yelled at the neighbors' kids--such nuisances!-- for romping and cavorting noisily just fifty feet from my house, they failed to see the seriousness of their behavior and, in their mealy-mouthed manner, merely kept them indoors for two days. Some punishment! It wasn't MY fault that they were weaklings. Their kids are grown and on their own, but nothing has changed. I might be willing to be Mrs. Jake's friend, but how can I reach out to someone whose cold looks are so repugnant? If hatred were palpable, hers--for me--would be a loud, dissonant, disturbing tune! NOTHING that has--or has not--happened is my fault. I suppose I should promise to say no more about these matters in the future but I have too much to declare. FICTIONAL WRITE
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