Conversation · The Gardener

"I can't believe it's snowing again..." The young woman resting by the wheelbarrow sighs.

"It felt like springtime just a few days ago..."

"The body is down."

"Down...?" The gardener straightens her back. "Do you mean the body is finally gone?"

Absolutely gone.

"It's gone from the tree."

"Oh... right." She scratches her cheek. "But not from the yard. I understand."

"Can you tell me when you've taken him away then. Because I'm sort of waiting for that."

Yeah, keep her in the loop. It's strangely enjoyable to report back on the minute progress you've made. Even to strangers.

No! Do not keep this random civilian in any loops.

No! Do not report back to this random civilian about anything.

"No, the body is down on the ground."

"Oh... right." She scratches her cheek. "Can you tell me when you've taken him away then?"

"The body is gone."

"Like gone-gone?" The girl repeats, her face beaming with appreciation.

"It was sent to processing in the morgue."

"I'm glad to hear that." A quick smile. "Thank you, officer. Looks like I'll get mint in the ground by April."

You get a strange feeling, looking at that smile. It spoils the moment. It is disingenuous.

What's going on here?

Surely it was nothing, sire. Just paranoia.

I don't care, I just wanna enjoy the nice moment.

Of course, sire, of course.

"It's not in the yard anymore. It's in... some other place now."

"In heaven?" A quick smile. "Thank you, officer. Looks like I'll get mint in the ground by April."

"No, just gone."

"Gone to heaven?" A quick smile. "Thank you, officer. Looks like I'll get mint in the ground by April."

"My partner told me you may have ammonia -- can I have some?"

"Sure -- I'm done with it." She takes a small capsule out of her breast pocket and hands it to you.

"Go easy on that stuff. It gave me a terrible headache."

"I have to run." [Leave.]

"See you around, officer."

"Of course, I won't hold you back." She wipes her brow with the canary yellow glove.

Those gloves would really come in handy for the autopsy.

"One more thing... Can I borrow your gloves?"

"Sure, keep them. I have another pair." She hands you the rubber gloves with no visible annoyance.

Really? None. Maybe just a tiny bit of annoyance.

She must be very diligent about the glove-use, because her hands are clean and delicate.

"Thank you." [Leave]

No, those gloves aren't really my style. [Leave.]

Psst! Her gloves -- they'll help you with the autopsy.

Her gloves -- you get the feeling that you need them. You have a dead body to deal with, after all.

If there's a corpse, then you're going to need those gloves for the autopsy.

"What is this fuck the police business?"

"Excuse me?" She doesn't understand.

She's uncomfortable. Maybe you should drop this line of questioning.

"Never mind."

She shifts in her seat awkwardly.

"This street sign says fuck the police." (Point to it.)

"Oh?" She cranes her neck. "Well, I didn't write it there. I'm just sitting here."

You didn't say she wrote it, you asked what it was doing there.

"It's alright, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Okay," she replies, shoulders relaxing.

"What about the other sign. Pigs go home? Who are these pigs?"

"I don't know anything about that either. As I said, I didn't write it."

Pig is a widely-used term for members of the Police. It's not loving.

Even if she didn't write it, she should CLEAN IT.

"You could clean it up if you get a chance. Be a citizen -- be a winner."

"Okay." She straightens her back.

She's probably not gonna do it.

"It's alright, I'm just asking."