Leaves of Their grass

Silence took over as the two stroke engine sputtered away. Jacob Kessler used the sleeve of his T-shirt to keep the sweat on his forehead from dripping into his eyes. It's already soaked through from his armpits though, so he's forced to use the bottom the shirt, exposing the slight beginnings of an older man's gut.

Neat, alternating lines of green and slightly paler green signify a job well done. A fairway cut out of a neglected jungle in his parents' back yard. That distinct fresh cut scent wafts its way through gasoline fumes triggering a job-well-done response deep in the primitive recesses of his masculine brain. Never one to enjoy the finer points of home landscaping, sweating in the August shade, Jacob felt good for the first time in a month.

The house was his now. He'd been avoiding it ever since the funeral, stopping by just enough to change what lights went on with the timers to keep the illusion of life. As much as he feared going back, he hated the idea of some opportunistic teens breaking in and stealing something valuable or destroying something that could only mean anything to the family. The meadow growing up around the place didn't help that lively appearance he was going for.

Now he needed a shower. Jacob could see himself turning on the groaning pipes and standing under a cool stream of water after letting it run out of sediment, then sitting down and watching TV on the cable he hasn't felt like disconnecting yet for a couple of hours. He wants beer, but there's only water after they cleaned out the fridge right after. Once they start bubbling to the surface he'll run away back to his apartment, but for now he just wanted to sit.