In the morning they installed 100% California Bluegrass. Avalon made people around her vindictive and impatient when she wasn’t trying to. To them, she was obtrusive in sight and impossible to get out of their heads.

So the night before, when they thought no one could find them for being so dark, I saw with my own two eyes, they poured at least three feet deep…barrels and barrels and barrels full of sand through her lawn and shoveled through. Whatever owner she planned to sell this house to, they did not want them growing a single bud. Months later I heard it told she had a conversation with the owner.

When asked what type of plant was growing from the ground she said “Sand suckers.” It obviously went over their heads, but created for an awkward enough lull in conversation to transition her out of the home now that the sale was done. The sale always got done. Their thoughts about her started making them uncomfortable and she finally, in her thirty-second year in life, had become comfortable with the tenseness in the air around her. And Avalon wanted to talk more about the grass. To tell them they had a lawn that was quite literally resistant to sand and weeds because she…

But she got the hint. She always got the hint even if too early—even if before there was a hint. And left happy, leaving them happy in their new home.

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